My True Love
by Wherewolfe1
Summary: A different tale on the AUTHER KOPTIC's and MAURY YESTON's PHANTOM. After Christine runs from the sight of Erik's face, Erik is left heartbroken...two years later, Christine must find him after he went missing and rely on him to save both their lives...
1. Chapter 1: The Circus

_A different tale on the AUTHER KOPTIC's and MAURY YESTON's PHANTOM. I have improved the story now that I am older I have more experience and have critiqued this story as best as I know how. I hope you will reread it because there are some little added things._

_Well, as a general, I __have seen the movie version of Phantom with Charles Dance and I have seen the stage version. __Just wanted to say that, in the movie Christine faints after seeing his face. In the stage version and mine she runs off in horror, leaving him to sing My Mother Bore Me._

_Some of my descriptions might be different, as well. In the movie Christine has blond, wavy hair and in my version she has brown curly hair, and is alittle older than what the movie version looks like. My Phantom has the sexy black hair, and in the movie, it is red (which isn't bad, I have nothing against red heads!) Also in the movie Phillipe's last name is de Chagny. In the stage version and mine, it's de Chandon and my Phillipe has black, short hair too. _

_I do not own these characters in any way. _

_Okay, time for me to shut up! Please R&R! _

_The new and improved..._

**My True Love **

**Chapter 1: The Circus**

The tight irons burned his wrists as he fought to free his redden hands. His arms were stretched out and chained to the opposite sides of the cage. He was in complete humiliation.

Laughter rang in his ears as people were gathered around to watch the unmasking. His eyes turned wearily over to his master as he unlocked the cage door with a devilish smirk across his face. The door opened and the crowd became quiet with excitement as the smelly, bearded man walked over to his kneeling victim.

Erik's eyes were filled with tears and fright as the man reached for his only protection and comfort in life, his mask. Erik sharply ducked his head out of Jaque's grasp, who growled and reached for it again.

Pleading cries called out from Erik's dry lips as Jaque grabbed hold of his jaw and took Erik's mask in his hand. He intended to mercilessly reveal his propority's face to the audience. With a wider smirk, Jaque ripped off Erik's mask and exclaimed, "Here you see the horror of the Devil himself!" Jaque faced the audience and pointed to the struggling Erik, who tried to hide his face.

Dropping his head to where it was almost painful on his neck, Erik wept. Tears were falling on the stale hay that bedded the cage.

Frustrated with Erik's _performance_, Jaque angrily grabbed Erik's jaw in his hand and thrust it upward in the light, revealing Erik's tear-stricken deformed face.

Laughing, sneering, and horrifying shrieks filled the large circus tent as they threw things at the chained man as if he were an animal. Not able to protect himself from the hateful scraps, glass, and food, Erik only winced and turned his head away from the crowd.

Jaque grew angry, took hold of the whip tucked behind his back and pulled it out. He thrust it in front of Erik's face then smiled at his victim.

With all his force, Jaque brought down the whip on Erik's bare back. The whole crowd sprung out in laughter...except for one in the very back of the room. Covered by a black cloak and hood, the figure left in pity as the beating began.

The _entertainment_ was over. Everyone had gone. Remains of food and money were scatter on the floor and in the cage. Half unconscious and still chained in that painful position, Erik could hear the clinking of money and chuckles of greed as Jaque and his so called _business partner_, Maxine, counted their coins in the other room. They sat by the warmth of a fire with blankets wrapped about them and left Erik to shiver in the cold night, still chained in his cage. The breeze was harsh and treated him unkindly. It blew through the entrance flaps of the canvas, slithered through the bars of the cage, and wrapped itself around Erik. He shivered violently and cried out in the freezing breeze. This act gave a chance for the cruel breeze to sweep down his throat, swelling up his windpipe, and causing him wheeze and cough trying to open the passage way to get oxygen into his lungs. In his merciless position on the floor, he leaned back and looked up. His deformed face was glistening from painful tears as he remembered what Jaque did to him the first time he was to '_perform_.'

_"See what the devil himself has brought you!" Jaque threw his head back and laughed as he ripped off Erik's mask and spun him around to face the audience. In shackles, Erik tried to fight Jaque, but was defeated quickly when Jaque pulled out his whip and began beating him. When Erik shrunk back in the corner, Jaque laughed along with the audience. He ripped off Erik's shirt, grabbed him by the hair, and pulled him across the cage and out the door. Then with the most devilish grin, he thrust Erik into the audience. They shrank back as the 'performer' rolled to the ground. _

_Stumbling to stand up, he lost his balance and fell towards the crowd on the right. Some shrieked with fear, yet was enjoying the show. Erik began to stand up again, only to be knocked down by a sharp object that hit him in the head. _

_He stooped in a cat-like position to catch his breath with his head hung low. He felt the tickle of blood trickle down his forehead and drop to the ground. As he began to crawl back to his cage, a man grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet, only to hit him in the stomach, sending him across the hard dirt floor. Suddenly everyone broke out with laughter and began beating him. Raging fists and sharp objects struck him. _

_Not knowing when it would end or if it would kill him, Erik looked up from the crowd and saw Jaque standing by his cage, watching the display. With tears streaming down Erik's face, he could only mouth a cry of "help me, please." _

_Jaque caught his plea and for a moment, he stood there watching. Erik didn't think he would raise to his defense, but then to his surprise, Jaque jumped onto the platform in the tent saying, "Good people! Listen! I encourage you to stop. I don't want you to kill my best selling performer." _

Erik never knew if Jaque felt any pity for him. He didn't seem to show any kind of sympathy that night after everyone had beaten him and hadn't since.

Kneeling in his cage, Erik could feel the darkness beginning to overcome him. He had nothing left to live for. Why didn't he just give up and leave this world? He knew that wherever he would go, it would be far better than this miserable so called existence. It was not like he was far from death, not having food for several days, water placed just out of reach for him to drink, paraded around like an animal, and if that wasn't enough, the skin would be beaten off his back. His eyes grew heavy and the ground became blurry. This was it, death was his at last. No one could stop him now. His breath became slower as he looked into the darkness. Just then, in the back of his mind he heard a familiar voice. A glorious, soaring voice that sounded like an angel beckoning him to hold on...

_"...I will hear your voice, and I'll see your brow, let me know your face, let me know it, Now! Now! Now!!" Turning around to face his only love, who was smiling down at him, he bent over to take off his mask. He slipped the tie off the back of his head and pulled the mask aside. Looking up into his true love's loving eyes, his heart sank when he saw those eyes turn to horror. Those blazing eyes that showed every morsel of fear followed by a terrifying, sad scream, echoing through the cavern as she ran off. Erik was left on his knees with his heart broken in two. _

Oh, he would give anything to see his love again. He could barely remember what she looked like. It had been so long, two long years. He knew it was impossible to see her. He was sure she had run off to Count de Chandon's arms for protection. That miserable man who wooed Christine with his so called charms.

Just then, in that moment of his last breath, he stopped. The sound of soft crunching hay and the slight clink of metal on metal made him fight a little longer for life. With all the strength he had left, he wearily raised his head. Through his blurry vision, he saw a black figure sneaking into the tent and quietly gliding over to his prison. The long billowing cape glided over the surface of the ground giving the illusion that the stranger was floating.

He became afraid and confused. What if this person was attempting to steal him away from this, only to display him in another freak show?

The figure revealed from under the long cloak, a ring with dangling keys.

Still not able to see the strangers face, the figure glanced about to make sure no one was coming, then focused on the lock.

Fingering through them and placing several in the lock, the stranger became impatient and let out a huff of frustration when none seemed to fit. At the sixth one the rescuing click sounded in his pounding ears. The door squeaked open as the rusty metal scratched against more metal. The rescuer slithered through the slightly ajar bars and glided over to the first shackle on his right arm.

Hearing a click, the iron cuff fell off his wrist exposing raw skin to the cold night breeze. As the figure worked on the other iron, Erik winced as he slowly lowered his right arm. Having been in that position for some time, it pained him to move it down to his side.

Looking up at the hooded figure, he struggled to bring up the strength to talk. His voice reduced to a hoarse whisper as he forced the words, "Who--are---you?"

"Shh!" the stranger ordered softly but firmly. Another click and the other iron fell to the floor. Now with no support to keep him up, he fell over and muffled his cry of pain as the hay stung his raw back.

Still hidden, the figure quickly dropped to the floor and carefully cradled him. There was no word from the hidden rescuer. Erik could feel the heavy stare of his rescuer and he buried his face in the cloak. More tears formed in his heavy, swollen eyes.

He was startled when a soft gentle hand touched his chin and turned his head slowly back to the rescuer's eyes. He was surprised at being handled so gently. He found comfort and protection in this stranger's lap.

Finally putting away his humiliation, he opened his eyes and stared in the black hood. Two soft, glowing, blue eyes were gazing upon him. They weren't harsh, mocking eyes, but full of compassion and sorrow. He squinted his eyes to see the face of this selfless person. Slowly the outline of soft features, then a delicate nose and warm soft lips appeared.

He gasped in disbelief, shock, and amazement as a long brown curl escaped from under the hood and bounced in the air above his head. Breathing rapidly with excitement and fear - for what if this was a dream - he whispered, "Christine!?!"


	2. Chapter 2: Glimmer of Light to My Gloom

**Chapter 2: A Glimmer of Light to My Gloom**

A faint smile appeared on his face, as the woman took off her hood and her curls fell down past her shoulders.

Oh, she was even more beautiful than he remembered. The last time he saw her she had run away terrified, leaving a shrill scream echoing in the cavern. Her mortified face had burned into his brain. It pained him everytime he saw it. He remembered showing her his face, the most terrible thing he had ever done. HIS FACE! Tears escaped his eyes as he cried out and hid his face again in her cloak. _Why should such a woman with such a face, have to ever look at such ugliness?_

Then, oh what joy and sorrow came from her lips. "Erik," she whispered soothingly as she brought his eyes up to meet hers. Afraid, he hestitantly looked into her eyes and studied them. _What is this! Not even a trace of fear in her eyes; only compassion._ He closed his eyes replaying the way she said his name. "Erik," she repeated, "what happened to you?" A slight tremble indicataded in her voice.

He didn't want to answer. He couldn't answer. He didn't know. All he remembered was staggering out into the stormy night, weeping from the loss of hope for his life, Christine. The rain cried with him, feeling the utmost sympathy. The thunder cried out as Erik did. It hid his screams of pain and anguish as he screamed that name, that beautiful, wretched name.

The next thing he knew, he woke up and his ankles and wrists were banned with irons and he was chained in a cage. He was found by roaming, money hungry gypsies, one or two miles out of Paris. Investigating the soaked, unconscious man with a strange mask covering his face, they quickly packed him up and planned to use him as entertainment for their freak shows and devilish wonders to impress the people around Europe.

Now after two years of this, he was finally free; free and safe in the arms of Christine. _Wait, what if this is a dream? I've dreamed of Christine for the past two years, how is this any different?_ "In all my sins, was I repaid with forgiveness? Tell me if I am dreaming," he whispered, looking at her beautiful features. He was afraid to close his eyes, only to open them again and it all go away.

Her small hand took his right one that was lying weak on the hay. Ever so gently she pressed his ice cold fingers to her warm, soft lips. She closed her eyes as a lone tear escaped from under her lid and glistened down her cheek. Erik, opening his eyes at the touch of her lips, saw it all.

Suddenly, this one sweet, bliss moment ended abruptly as a familiar voice came close. "Christine?"

"Gerard, he is here!" Christine turned as the elderly man rushed into the cage.

Erik was never more happy to see Gerard, "Gerard!" Erik cried and then abruptly stopped as sudden, violent coughs emerged from his chest, sending surges of pain in his closed, dry throat.

"Erik! What have they done to you!" He knelt down to Erik's level, shocked to see the state of his son's condition. His son still not knowing he had a father. Gerard brushed Erik's hair to somehow soothe away the coughing.

"Is the carriage ready?" Christine asked.

"Yes, and I took the liberty of putting the owner out of his miserable greed for a while. And I found this..." Gerard reached into his coat and pulled out Erik's mask. With as much strength as he could manage, Erik grabbed it eagerly and put it on, with the help of the soft, loving hand of Christine's. "Let's get out of here before any of the other workers catch us," with that Gerard took off his coat as Christine slowly sat Erik up. The older gentleman draped his heavy coat over Erik's bare, raw shoulders. Then Christine and Gerard picked the weak man up and silently took him out of the tent, the back way, to where a closed carriage awaited them.

Rocking his head back and forth as he slowly came too, Erik moaned from the pain that rushed through his body. He heard muffled voices off in the distance and approaching footsteps. His heart was pounding with fright as he heard a door open and close. The Phantom of the Opera, who had killed, scared and haunted an entire opera house, was afraid. He had every reason to be afraid. Where was he? Who was he with? Was Christine and Gerard really a reality? Or was he back in his prison?

Soft footsteps brushed what seemed to be the wood floors and stopped. He knew someone was looking at him, but he didn't have the courage to open his eyes.

"Erik," a soft whisper and a slight touch on his shoulder confirmed that it was Christine. He opened his eyes to see her lovely face staring down at him. He touched his face to make sure the mask was still there and it was. With a sigh of relief, he moved a bit to get comfortable, with what little comfort he could achieve, the pain that was still intense. Erik closed his eyes for they were still heavy from exhaustion. "Erik, the doctor says you are in serious condition. No food, no water, and your body..." She stopped, repulsed with the poor condition he had been kept in.

He blinked his eyes trying to block tears that were swelling up. Oh how he wished he was his strong self again so Christine wouldn't have to look at his thin, mangaled body. His grief suddenly vanished and he let out a slight gasp as two hands slowly glided up and down his chest and waist. He felt the same feeling he had when she vowed her true love and wrapped her arms around his chest, back under the Opera.

Her touch wasn't painful. He was protected by some kind of wrap that covered his whole, waist, chest, and back. "Christine," he breathed, as she continued gliding her hands up and down his chest, neck, his mask...

Erik shot his hands up and grabbed her wrists, wrenching them away from his face. He held them out in front of him. "Do not remove my mask!" his voice commanded but still quite hoarse.

"Erik, please, I have already seen your face."

"The last time I took off my mask for you, you ran from me. I do not want that to happen again, now that you are here." He lifted his hand to her cheek and cupped it. Covering his hand Christine buried her face in his, ready to cry at the painful thought of what she had done.

"Erik, I..." Her words were cut off as once again they were interrupted by Gerard who entered the room, a grim expression on his face. "Gerard what is wrong?" she asked.

"It's the doctor." Gerard heaved a sigh, "He knows that Erik is the Phantom of the Opera."

Erik's lips tightened. You told him!" He screamed in sheer outrage then collasped as the pain washed over his bruised body.

"No, no I didn't! You are, were the talk in every city. Everyone knew the Phantom wore a mask. He saw your mask and figured it out...and he saw your face."

"You showed him my face!" Erik growled fighting the pain, he tried madly to sit up and lunge for Gerard, but Christine firmly stopped him.

"No! He told us to leave while he bandaged your wounds. We didn't have a choice, Erik."

"Could we buy his silence?" Christine asked.

Gerard shook his head, "No, I already tried. He said he wants Erik out of his place before morning or he'll call the police."

"We need to get him out now, the sooner the better." Christine began to put on her cloak as Gerard nodded in agreement and began helping Erik out of bed.

The wounded Phantom moaned and tried not to cry out as he stood up with great difficulty, Gerard securely holding his arm.

"Christine, hold him while I put my coat on him." Christine rushed over and lifted Erik's arm around her shoulder. Slipping off his coat, Gerard gently, eased it up Erik's arms one at a time and over his back. Making their way to the door, they suddenly stopped with fear, as they heard muffled talking and shuffling of feet. Christine nodded for Gerard to hold tighter to Erik as she crept to the door. She slowly turned the knob and opened it just enough to see with her one eye.

The doctor was at his front door with a man in uniform. Five other men dressed in the same attire, rushed in with pistols. Closing the door quickly, she locked it and turned back to the two men.

"The doctor and the police are outside. What are we to do?"

"Barracade the door as much as you can, Christine, then..." he stopped and looked around the room. _Yes,_ a window on the opposite side of the room was slightly open. "We'll make our escape through the window, and make our way back to Paris."

Christine began to push large objects in front of the door. The turn of the knob made Christine jump and revealed to them that they didn't have much time.

Taking over, Gerard dragged a desk over to the door. Christine took Erik to the window and propped him securly against the wall. "Gerard hurry!" Christine pleaded as the officers pounded on the door to open it. Shouting orders from the other side, the officers attempted to enter.

Gerard had finished and ran over to help Christine out the window and then Erik.

Intense pain shot through Erik's body as he bent over to squeeze through the small window, which he had trouble accomodating with his large frame. Christine grabbed hold of his arm tightly as Gerard made his way through the window. Then, when on the ground, he and Christine both led Erik around the house, to make there escape. Their plan to get to their carriage failed when they saw some officer's standing guard at the doctor's door and at their carriage.

"Come this way, we will have to take the alley. From there we can make our way out of Dover and to the docks." Gerard turned them around and they plunged into the dark silent alley, leaving the officer's still pounding on the door.

Safe, away from the law, they slowed their pace for Erik's sake. He was heaving and gasping for breath.

As they crept through the maze-like alley their eyes became adjusted to the dark; which made finding their way out a lot easier. Christine let out a squeal and squeezed tightly to Erik's arm as a rat scurried over her feet and disappeared into a dark corner. "Do not be frightened Christine. It is more frightened of you than you of him." Gerard encouraged, hoping his son would contribute a word. Erik, however did not say anything which led Gerard to fall deep into thought. He had never told Erik that he was his father, Christine knew and every day nagged him about it. _What a woman can do to drive a man mad_, he thought.


	3. Chapter 3: The Memory of La Carlotta

**Chapter 3: The Memory of La Carlotta**

The sun was rising at the docks. Its radiant colors glistened on the harbor waters, telling all the sailors and workers to start their busy day. The sunshine crept its way into Erik's hiding place behind some large crates. He awoke.

He opened his eyes, blinking them, then quickly reclosing them for protecting from the sun. He felt its warmth, unlike the moons chilling glow which brought in the waters frosty wind. He heaved a sigh as he took a liking to the suns warmth. It was quite different from the circus and the cage. He shook his head putting it out of his mind. He was gone from that place of misery and torture and that's all that mattered to him. Moving his hands up from his lap, he felt two arms resting across his chest. They were soft and familiar. He blinked his eyes open, readjusting his head away from the suns rays to find himself in the arms of Christine. He glanced around to find Gerard but he was nowhere to be seen. Erik then took into account that they were well hidden cleverly from prying eyes and patrolling officers.

He felt the steady rise and fall of Christine's chest and listened to the beat of her heart. She was still asleep. Not wishing to wake Christine, he closed his eyes. Though he had wished for this moment - to be wrapped in his loves arms - he wanted nothing more than to come out of her embrace. His heart was still broken from two years ago, but he didn't know what to do now that Christine was here. He hated her but loved her. He was so confused in his heart and in his mind, he didn't even know what to think or to say.

His thoughts ended when soft, creeping footsteps reached his ears. His eyes shot open and he saw Gerard kneeling down. "Gerard," Erik whispered with a smile appearing on his face.

"Hello, Erik." Gerard returned the smile and nudged Christine awake. She fluttered her eyes which made Erik's heart skip a beat. He retreated out of her arms and moved to the side. Christine looked at Erik and then at Gerard. "I have our tickets for Le Harve, Paris. Their docks are small so it will be easy to slip Erik through the crowd. They are boarding soon so we must get on the ship and place Erik in our room quickly. I only had enough money for one room. My apologies, Christine." His head hung down in guilt.

"Do not trouble yourself, Gerard. It is all right."

"We will arrive in Le Harve at noon and from there we'll use the rest of _your_ money, Christine, to make our way back to Paris."

"Actually it's Phillipe's money." Christine confessed. Erik's heart raced with mad jealousy at the sound of that man's name. He was never fit for her. He had lots of other women at the Opera House. Why did he need Christine? Someone who was purer than any of those ballet rats.

"Come, let us go," Gerard said and helped Christine stand Erik up. They boarded the ship with less questions than what they had thought and said their prayers of thanks.

In their room, such as it was, they put Erik on the bed. Gerard went to make sure everything was in order and that no one suspected anything. He left Christine and Erik alone to themselves.

After about ten minutes, Christine heard orders given above on deck and knew they were ready to depart. The small rocking motion confirmed that they were moving and she smiled to herself in satisfaction. She set her cloak down on a wooden chair and felt safe now that they were away from the circus and the police.

Gerard had not come back yet and Christine was growing impatient and paced the room. Finally deciding to take her mind off the uncomfortable silence, and her nervousness in getting back to Paris, she decided to tidy the room a bit. She began rearranging the roughly made furniture and dusting the sparse decorations with her dress. As she walked about the room, Erik watched her every move. He had propped himself up on the bed. After careful studying, he noticed that Christine had changed since he saw her last. Her figure was curved out more, giving her a more womanly appearance. Her face had matured into a woman - the upper class. Her previous attire of long skirts, dressy collared tops, and lace-up boots was changed to a floor length dress with a lower, more revealing neckline. Her deep brown curls were not in their usual half up half down style, but all dangled loose and free in the middle of her back.

He smiled at her changes, he liked them. They gave her the appearance of the woman that she was; a woman who was probably married to a Count or another gentleman of hig caliber.

She stopped her work with a jump when he suddenly broke the silence, "I assume that you are still in the Opera?"

Christine swallowed the same innocent way she did two years ago. She looked at the ground - her normal routine - and clutched her hands together. She then looked back up at him, "No. A new manager was hired after Chottlei left in grief over his wife and it did not seem right for me to go back there when you..." she stopped and looked at the ground and swallowed again. "when you disappeared," was how she decided to phrase it.

"You mean after I had killed La Carlotta and showed you my face?" taunted Erik.

There was a pause. He knew her too well. She always tried to phrase things delicately. Still staring at the ground, she continued quietly. "La Carlotta did not deserve to die."

"Yes she did, after what she had done to you --"

"No one deserves to die for such a cause, Erik." A defending sparkle in her eyes met his.

Erik scoffed, "It is just like you to fight for someone who betrays you in front of thousands of people."

"I forgave her Erik, even after she died."

"You forgive too easily, Christine. How can you understand anything if you always use forgiveness as the answer!"

Christine stepped closer to the bed, "I _do_ understand, Erik, more than you think. I am not a helpless child who needs to run to everyone who crosses my path!"

"But you ran to that Count no doubt...after you betrayed me."

Silence hung in the room as Erik's painful reminder stung Christine's memory. The silence was quickly broken as Gerard came in. He had a natural talent for that. "Christine, everything is in order. None of the other passengers seem suspicious," he stopped, seeing both of them looking in the opposite directions, "...the Captain is quite friendly and says our sailing shall be fairly smooth." He continued, aware now that something had happened between the two.

"If you will excuse me, Gerard." Christine rushed out of the room.

Erik banged his head back on the wall that he was propped up against, "Why does she have to be so -- so -- beautiful?! And me so..." He stopped, not able to think of a good curse word to described himself.

"I do not know." Gerard looked at Erik, who was readjusting his mask and letting out a sigh of anguish.

"I can never say the right thing anymore when I'm around her," he banged his head again, this time repeatedly. When he finally stopped, leaving his head against the, he continued, "I blamed her for running away that night, after seeing my face."

Gerard walked closer to the bed, "she was unprepared."

"She was unprepared for ugliness, and for one brief, sweet moment, so was I." Gerard could see tears appearing from under his son's mask as Erik looked up at the older gentleman. "I am sure she is crying right now and that was something I vowed never to do. Oh, how can I make amends?"

Gerard shook his head. This was not his business anymore. "That is something you will have to figure out yourself." He concluded.

* * *

**I couldn't resist that last part, **_**"She was unprepared"..."she was unprepared for ugliness."**_** That whole thing from the play. I love the way Erik says it, it makes me want to cry that he found a happy moment in his life and then it was taken away so quickly. Tears tears**


	4. Chapter 4: Desiring to Make Amends

**Chapter 4: Desiring to Make Amends**

Up on the quiet deck, curious passengers were watching the waves splash against the ship as they awaited for the journey's end. Gerard found Christine at one side of the ship watching the sea. As he came close he noticed her face was sparkled with tears. How beautiful she was as he watched the sun continue to bounce off of Christine's lovely face.

Sighing, he pulled out a hankercheif as he walked up to her, "You know, behind all his bitterness, there is kindness in him."

Christine turned her head to him and nodded as she took the handkerchief. Wiping her eyes, she fought back her tears. "Why do I always cry? You cannot solve all your problems by crying. Why is it that I always cry in a situation?"

"I do not know. It must be the way the womans mind and heart was created."

"Yes."

"Do you think you could find some place in that emotional heart of yours for forgiveness?"

"It is I who needs forgiveness. He had every right to say the things he did. He's right. I did betray him that night. I vowed to love his face and I turned him away. It is just like you said two years ago, '_to know him, you must also know his face_.' I thought I did, but it seems there is more to him I do not know."

"Mademoiselle, Erik has been through a lot these past two years. All he's heard is the endless curse words and harsh insults thrown at him. It seems it has taken a toll on him. I know he did not mean the things he said, the way he said it, whatever they may have been."

"How can I ever make amends?" Christine turned to him.

Gerard shook his head, holding in a slight smile. Putting encouraging arms on her shoulders, he looked into her soft blue eyes, "That is something your heart must tell him."

"Oh, Gerard," Christine's face suddenly became pale as she clutched her hands in the front of her waist, "but what about Phillipe! I have not given him thought. My life is going to change now that I have Erik back."  
"Yes that's true."

"Erik is terribly jealous of him, and Phillipe is of Erik. Since Erik has been gone for so long, Phillipe has been like a mad man, asking me to marry him everytime we meet. When I mention Erik his eyes cloud over and he becomes very angry."

"They will just have to respect your decision, which will be the best for you." Gerard rubbed her shoulder attempting to encourage her with his last advice. Christine smiled as a _thank you_, then her smile faded as she watched the sun reach its full brilliance in the sky. She hung her head down as she asked her next question.

"Have you told Erik yet, that he is your son?"

A grave expression appeared over Gerard's face as he uncomfortably shifting his weight. "No. I do not believe on telling him for a while."

"But he needs to know. He needs to know that his father has always been there for him, that his father loves him."

With his eyes cast down he scoffed, "My dear m'amselle, let me worry about my troubles. Erik is so far from hearing anything or anyone right now but..." His eyes then met hers, "...But you. You are the only one he will listen to."

"You tell me to let you worry about your own problems in life, yet you try to fix mine."

"I am only trying to help."

"And so am I."

Gerard sighed in frustration, "Your troubles are different than mine. I don't want to see them destroy you or Erik. Believe me, if you will not talk to Erik now, he will never listen to anyone again."

Christine stared strongly into his eyes, upset still that he would not listen to reason. After a moment she thought, _I guess it wouldn't be a good time on a ship to tell your son his father has been with him his whole life. _Realizing that what Gerard said was true, she worked up her courage, hugged Gerard, then departed, making her way back to their cabin.


	5. Chapter 5: JeanClaude

**Chapter 5: Jean-Claude**

Below deck Christine walked down the hallway and stopped when she approached the door. Smoothing her dress and pulling her hair back, she hesitantly brang her hand up at eye level and knocked on the door, "Erik." There was no reply. "Erik." Christine knocked on the door again with a firmer voice.

Still no reply came from the other side. Thinking that he might be asleep, Christine decided to go in. She slowly opened the door.

Suddenly some strong force instantly knocked her to the ground. Regaining her balance, she sat on her knees looking in the direction where she heard hard running footsteps disappear into the shadows. With a frantic yelp, she rushed to her feet and flew into the room, "Erik!" Her eyes headed straight for the bed, but he was not there. Heart raising with fear, she ran around to the other side of the bed to find him lying on the ground. "Erik!!" She bent down and turned him over in her lap. A gasp escaped her lips as she saw, blood staining the wrap that the doctor had put around his wounds. He had been stabbed in the chest.

Afraid that he might be dead, she put her hand under his nose to try and feel if he was still breathing. With a great sigh of slight relief, she removed her hand when she felt warm air escape his mouth as he began slowly open his eyes.

"Do--you kn-know when they'll ever give up?" He whispered with some sarcasm.

"Did you see who it was?" Christine asked.

Erik shook his head wearily, too weak to talking anymore.  
"What on earth?! Christine!" Gerard walked in seeing only Christine kneeling behind the bed. He rushed over and gasped as he saw Erik cradled in Christine's arms. "What happened?!" He bent down as well.

"As I came to the room, someone knocked me down and ran down the hall. I found Erik on the floor."

"Let's get the ship doctor." Gerard began to stand up.

"No." Erik grabbed Gerard's arm, "I'll be fine. It's not that deep, and we haven't had much luck with doctors lately."

"The Maestro's right, we can't have someone suspect him now. Not while we're on a ship." Christine looked at Gerard. Meanwhile, Erik shot his eyes at Christine. He had not been called that in a long time and was surprised she even remembered that name.

"Let's at least get him on the bed." Gerard advised. With as much help as Erik could give, they pulled him on the bed. "I know alittle about fixing wounds. At the Opera, I was dealing with the dancers and actors all the time."

"What can I do to help?" Christine asked, looking at Gerard, while unconsciously placing a hand on Erik's head. He melted at her touch, but showed as little as possible.

"Well right now, all I need to do is take this part of his bandage off..." Gerard jestured to the place where the wound was.

With a sudden bolt of pain, Erik took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, "Whatever you do, please hurry." He said between clenched teeth.

Gerard nodded over Erik and jestured for Christine to assist him, "Erik, this may hurt a bit, but I need you to sit up. I wont be able to unwrap this unless you do." Erik nodded and sat up with the help of Gerard and Christine. He decided biting his tongue was better than screaming in front of Christine, and he found that it helped.

Finding the starting point, Gerard and Christine began to carefully unwrap the bandage, until they had reached the stab wound. Laying him back down, Gerard got to work with Christine assisting him in any way possible. But her big job, assigned by Gerard, was to hold onto Erik's hand. When he would feel any pain he was to sqeeze her hand.

Standing at the bedside, Christine held firm to Erik's hand and watched as Gerard managed to clean it and rebandage the wound. Erik's eyes never left her face. To get his mind off any pain, he flashed back to his most joyous moments with Christine.

_"...You are music, beautiful music, and you are light to me..." He sang as he watched his Love standing by the paino, listening to his glorious voice. She then joined in, matching him in strength, tone, and beauty, "...Oh, you are music, sunburst of music, and you are life, to me." Resting his hand on hers for the first time, he could feel hers tremble, and as she turned to him, a slight smile bloomed on her face. He took his hand away and rested both on his heart, bowing to end the session._

A slight smile appeared on his face as he remembered her expression and her voice. But it soon vanished when Christine noticed his stare and smiled shyly at him.

Gerard made a sling and rested Erik's right arm carefully in it. "There. That should do for now, but we need it properly dressed when we reach Le Harve." Gerard, stepped back. "Do you still hurt?"

Erik closed his eyes, "Only when I breath." He softly smiled showing a hint of sarcasm, thinking Gerard's question was quite ridiculous.

"Maestro." Erik's eye shot open. "Do you remember anything, as to what happened in here?"

He paused for a moment, taking in that name, then sighing, Erik closed his eyes again and thought. "All I saw was a figure, dressed in black, that wore a mask."

"Did he say anything?" Christine persisted, putting a hand on his bare chest. Again he fought her touch.

"Um...'_now he can get his vengance.'_ Then he said he will have the pleasure in...killing me."

Gerard asked, "Is that all?"

"No."

"Well, what's the rest?" Gerard asked, growing impatient.

"The rest isn't appropriate to say in front of young women." Erik looked up at Gerard with a slight smirk. Christine cleared her throat, embarassed.

Gerard nodded, "Right well, um...I'll go on deck and...look around to see if I can find anyone that might be acting peculiar. Christine, you stay with Erik." Gerard backed up towards the door, leaving Christine shaking her head, not wanting to be left alone with Erik. Gerard closed the door behind him before Christine could protest. Knowing now, that his excuse to leave the room was flimsy. Who would leave a woman to guard a man while someone wants to kill the man. He hoped Christine wouldn't figure it out.

Looking around, akwardly, Christine began to pull away from Erik's hand, but he tightened his grip, "No, don't." Christine turned back and slowly met his eyes. "Christine, I..." He thought of what to say and how to say it right, "Christine, I am sorry," was all he could find.

Not knowing where to go from here, Christine pulled a nearby chair and sat down, her hand still captured in his, "Christine, I did not mean what I said about you--about you betraying me. You never have to forgive me, I just want you to understand that it wasn't your fault..."

"No Erik, you are wrong, it was my fault. I did betray you. I promised to love your face and I broke that promise, it is I who needs for forgiveness." Christine buried her face in her other hand to hide her shame.

Erik felt like he'd cry, but quickly cleared his throat, choking back his tears. He pulled her hand slowly over his chest. He rested it there and with his other hand he lifted her chin, "You are as innocent as from the day you were born, Christine Daee. There is nothing that you can do that it is wrong," he then took hold of her other hand and placed it with the other one.

Christine leaned towards him, removing her hands from their position and replacing them with her head. Laying gently down, she then placed one hand on his chest.

Erik began to breath rapidly at the closeness of her. Fighting the slight pain she was causing him, he carefully placed one hand on her hair, stroking it gently. She closed her eyes and rested there. He breathed in the heavenly aroma of her curly hair. Every stroke it let off its fragrence. Within a few minutes, Christine fell asleep and Erik also grew tired. In a few minutes, Erik drifted to sleep.

* * *

Two days passed and Gerard spent most of the days on deck, contributing in some conversation with some of the other passengers to pass the time. Still keeping a investigative eye on anyone who might look guilty. It all seemed too short. When Gerard glanced up, he saw the pier coming into view. Saying farewell, Gerard mosied on over to the front of the ship. Scanning over the slightly busy pier, he searched for the scheduled carriage to take them out of the dock and out of Le Harve and back to Paris. He recapped over the plans he layed out for Jean-Claude. A carriage was to await them at the docks.

_"I will come every day and wait there until you arrive." Jean-Claude shook Gerard's hand, sealing their agreement._

_"Thank you, Jean-Claude, you don't know how much this means to me. You have been such a good friend, I don't know how to repay you." _

_"Just bring him back, my friend. That's all I ask."_

_"I will," Gerard grinned at the thought of having his son home again. "You'll make sure no one knows..."_

_"Of course, even the Count de Chandon wont know." _

_"Splendid! Well I must be off, au voir." Gerard put a hand on his friends shoulder then headed for the door._

Jean-Claude had found out about Erik when he first arrived at the Opera. He was a smart man and knew something was up. The way Gerard spoke of the _Phantom_, and when he defended Erik whenever someone insulted to Opera Ghost. He comfronted Gerard one day and asked for the truth. Gerard broke down, knowing he was caught. He told Jean-Claude to swear never to tell anyone and he promised. During the years it had brought them closer as friends. They learned to trust each other with their secret and they learned to protect Erik.

Now he agreed to wait for them. Wait until they arrived. That brought comfort to Gerard knowing that their plan was to follow through with success. Squinting to see better, his eye sight was not as well what it used to be, he finally spotted a carriage and a man sitting in the coach seat. He grinned, knowing that that must be Jean-Claude. Making his way to their room, he found his son propped up in bed, Christine sitting at the side of the bed - both talking.

"The ship is ready to dock and our carriage awaits to take us back to Paris. We need get him ready."

Getting him dressed included Gerard's coat over his back that was buttoned up the front to the top. They then departed off the boat and down the gangplank.

So good so far. They hadn't run into anyone and felt relief as they approached the closed carriage. As they approached, the coachman, wearing a low brimmed hat, jumped down from the high perch and silently opened the door to the carriage. Erik was confused, they did not explain to him that a carriage would be there, and who was the coachman?

Into the carriage they went and Erik grunted as he sat down on the bench. The coachman closed the door and as the carriaged slightly rocked back and forth, that affirmed that the coachman was on the high perch. Clucking and tapping the reigns, the carriage lunged forward and soon set in a steady pace. Erik looked at Gerard across from him, his face full of confusion.

Gerard seemed to have read his expression, "Jean-Claude." His eyes lifted upward.

Erik's face was sudden shock, "He knows about me?!"

"He has known about you for along time. He's learned to understand you. He arranged for this carriage." Gerard kept explaining, seeing Erik's face not getting any lighter. "He's helped me protect you ever since you were a child."

"A toddler?"

"Yes, He's kept your secret for so long. There is nothing to worry about."

"Erik, I know Jean-Claude. He cares for you so much." Christine added, squeezing his arm, trying to release his tention.

Erik inhaled trying to obey Christine's unspoken note. "Why was I not told?" Erik asked finally after a great deal of silence.

Gerard sighed, "We thought you would over react,and do something you would regret." Just then the carriage bounced, causing Erik to clutch his recent wound and growl from the agony.

"Sorry." Jean-Claude's apology was heard and Erik nodded with a weak smile.

"We need to get you to a doctor." Gerard began to lean out the window to tell Jean-Claude when Erik stopped him.

"No, I'm quite all right. I can survive the trip until we get to Paris."

"Erik, are you sure?" His father asked.

"Yes I'll be fine..." Another bump caused Erik to growl again and hold his shoulder. After a moment of silence, "So when is my life suppose to get better?" He asked with his sarcasm that made Christine burst into giggles.

* * *

**Thank you for sticking with it for so long...hopefully I will steadily update the chapters...thanks a again!**


	6. Chapter 6: A Father

**Chapter 6: A Father**

The travel was long - well it seemed to be - as they passed village after village and town after town. Ever since the beginning, Erik wished that it would end. He didn't know how much longer he could take the constant jolting and bumping of the carriage.

Finally, as the carrige rolled to a stop, his wish came true. The small sway of the carriage and a thud proved that Jean-Claude was on the ground. "I need to water the horses. This would be the time to walk out any cramps you might have." Jean-Claude held the door open as Gerard went stepped out first, then Erik, then Christine.

Christine smiled at the pleasent resting stop Jean-Claude picked. Although there was a sharp breeze, it was a well-chosen stop. There was not a village in sight, only beautiful fieldes with tall dancing trees and a small, crystal pond for the horses to drink. The grass was soft and Christine secretly slipped her foot out of her shoe and squished the lush grass under her toes. She slipped her foot back into her shoe then led Erik to a nearby tree. Gerard helped Jean-Claude unhitch the horses and lead them to the pond. They discussed light topics.

When they came to a tree, Christine started to guide Erik down, but he stopped her by taking hold of the trunk. "No. I want to stand. Sitting in that..." He stopped, fixed his language, then continued, "...Cart for hours on end, makes me want to curse that thing to Hell."

"Think of the poor horses. How do they feel pulling people along for _'hours on end'_?"

Not having a comeback Erik shifted his weight so he was leaning against the tree, and switched the subject. "If you wish to frollick about, Christine, be my guest...I saw you feel the earth under your feet. Do not let me be the one to stop you from letting go. Everyone has to at one point or another."

Christine smiled, "Erik, you are my concern right now..."

Erik laughed, cutting her off. That same laugh that captivated her so. She remembered that same laugh when he told her of the Bistro. The one that was to be her big debut.

_"...You will audition at the Bistro."_

_"The Bistro?"_

_"Yes, just across the Place de l'Opera. It's where the company members go. At the Bistro everyone sings. It's the custom, it's why they love going there. And at the proper moment you will sing there too and everyone will here your voice. And there will be no way La Carlotta can say no. I even know what you will wear..." With a warm, haughty laugh, Erik walked over to the piano, "Yes, we wait for the proper moment."_

_"It is like a dream!"_

_"Except it is real."_

"What are you laughing at?" Christine asked with a grin when her mind came back to the present.

"You. Everything about you is so...perfect. You always care for someone else more than yourself. You play out what the Bible says, "To love your brethen more than yourself. Do not look so shocked. My mother use to read the Bible to me when I was a child." He smiled, "Christine, you would do me great pleasure if you would let me go for a moment and have some time for youself. Go, run, be happy." He smiled, his eyes sparkling behind his mask, as he pointed to the dancing trees. "I know you can dance better than those trees."

For an instant Christine stood still, then with a beaming smile - and no care at all - she took off. Running around the trees, skipping on the grass, spinning around in circles, and falling to the ground, she lost all worry, all thoughts, and just let go.

Erik watched in delight. Hearing her pleasant laugh echo through the trees, brought happiness to his heart. With great effort, he managed to slide down to the ground propping his back against the tree. He propped one knee up and rested his free hand on it, watching Christine run around.

Jean-Claude and Gerard both laughed at the sight of Christine, "She's a beautiful girl. Very dedicated."

"Yes." Gerard nodded with a smile.

"And look at him, he's smiling. A real smile. He has not done that in a long time."

Gerard grinned at his son, "Yes, I am glad he is finally happy."

Jean-Claude patted one horse on the neck, "Have you told him Gerard?" His voice became quiet and serious.

"No. I do not intend to. Not for a long while, at least."

"Gerard, the longer you delay the harder it will be. He needs a father right now. Why don't you show him that you can be his father. The great father that you are."

"Ah, Jean-Claude I cannot. If I ever have to leave him, I would not be able to take him along, and I do not want him thinking that his father would have to leave him."

"Take him where? You are not manager of the Opera House anymore. Monsieur Luv' Monte is and a very good one at that. You gave it up in search for Erik. He _needs_ you Gerard, just as much as you need him. Think of it Gerard. Do you really want to wait until you are on your death bed to tell him?" There was a pause then his voice was like something Gerard had never heard as he said, "Or his?" With that last remark, Jean-Claude made ready for the rest of the trip. He called Christine in. She slipped on her shoes then helped Erik to the carriage. Tapping the whip on the horses rear, they lunged forward again. Erik rolled his eyes and clutched his upper chest. They soon were on a smoother pace and headed for Paris at last.


	7. Chapter 7: To Undo What I Have Done

**Chapter 7: To Undo What I've Done**

Christine woke with a sudden jolt of the carrige. _My goodness. I must have slept for hours. _The moon cast an eerie glow on the payment when Christine peeked out the curtained window. She smiled and sighed in relief when she recognized the streets. They were finally in Paris. The carriage rolled down the lonely, dark streets, silently making its way around corners and down long blocks to its final destination, Gerard's home. She turned to find Gerard and Erik both asleep. She smiled when she saw Gerard cradling Erik in his arms. Erik had his head on Gerards chest and Gerard had his arms wrapped around his son.

As she stared at the sentimental picture, she began to see a similarity. Their strong chins were the same and the shape of the eyes were the same. Thinking for a moment Christine also realized that their voices were alittle the same. The way they used the same energy when they spoke or when they said a certain word. They also used same gestures for things. Christine, though, huffed when she realized that was all she could tell. _Erik and his darn mask_._ Why did he have to have the burden of such a face? What did he do to deserve it? _She tried so hard to think his face was beautiful, but the image of his sunken cheeks, his lopsided nose, and the knotted flesh appeared in her mind. She wished she would see it as beautiful, but she couldn't.

Christine whipped her glossy eyes and smoothed her dress, but her eyes were captured on Erik's mask again. She wanted to see it again. She wanted to know if she could look at it and think it beautiful. Leaning over, she scimmed over the mask. She studied the part around his eyes that was not hidden. Squinting her eyes, she realized that the skin was a different color than his jaw line. She had never really noticed it before. A purplish color almost. Taking hold of the bottom edge, she slowly began to ease it upward; but before she could pull back anymore, a hand grabbed her wrist and wrenched it away. The force threw her to the floor. Erik's eyes shot open and pierced hers with the utmost anger. "I told you never to take off my mask!!"

"I'm sorry. Please forgive me." She brought a protective hand over her face.

Erik's temper woke up Gerard. Erik's voice rose higher, thrashing out at Christine, "You know what I look like, the horror that it is! You do not need to see it again! How could you betray me like this when I'm asleep!"

"Erik, calm down. No harm was done." Gerard grabbed Erik's shoulders from behind. He tried to hold him still but it did not help.

"How could you do this to me! I trusted you you little wretch!" The carrige stopped and Jean-Claude opened the door.

"What is going on?!"

"You little witch! You betray me in everything you do!" He raised his hand in the air.  
Christine burst spuealed in fear, tears streaming down her face. She recoiled and rushed out of the carriage, afraid, very afraid. She had never seen him this mad before. It terrified her. She had to get away before he might kill her!

Erik looked up and saw his hand raised ready to strike, _When did I do that?_ He didn't remember bringing his hand up. His eyes widened when he realized Christine was gone. _What have I done? _Gerard let go of Erik as his son exited the carriage quickly. "Christine!" He looked around for Christine. He couldn't see her at all, all he heard was her stiffled cries. "Christine!" Erik called again, becoming frantic. His eyes scimmed the road and came to a immediate stop when he saw a dark figure in a billowing cape. His eyes widened in horror as the shadowy cape disappeared revealing a small figure lying on the ground. "Christine!!" Erik, ran to her as fast as his weak legs could carry him. Coming to a stop, he bent down over her motionless body. "What have I done!" He turned her body over in his lap. "Christine." He cried worriedly as he brought her so tight to his body. He rocked her back and forth.

Gerard and Jean-Claude came rushing over to Erik. Prying her out of Erik's arms, they checked for her pulse. It was steady, "She's just unconscious. Let's get her into the carriage. We are not a block from you house, Gerard." Jean-Claude picking Christine up in his arms and rushed back to the carriage.

"Erik what on earth happened?" Gerard asked.

Erik did not answer, he just wailed. Gerard looked about for an answer as to how Christine ended up unconscious but there was no sign of anything.

"We can fetch a doctor when we arrive." Jean-Claude advised when Gerard had settled Erik in to the carriage.

"What have I done? What have I done?" Erik repeated over and over, in shock. "It's all my fault! What have I done?"

* * *

As the carriage traveled to Gerard's house, a faster pace, Erik cradled Christine's lifeless form in his arms, his buried his face in her curls.

Gerard bowed his head, _If only Erik could control his temper_.

As they came to a stop, Gerard looked out the window and saw the familiar house. He had bought it after he leaving the management of the Opera House, with a nice size payment for all the years he spent there. He couldn't complain, his house was next to appartment homes that were kept in good condition and the neighborhood was quiet and safe. It was perfect for both him and his son, when he found him.

Jean-Claude opened the door and jestered for Gerard to take Christine from Erik. Gerard then handed her to Jean-Claude who headed towards the door.

Gerard guided Erik out of the carriage and approached the little house. Taking out a key from his pocket, he quickly slipped the key into the lock and turned it. The lock clicked and the door opened slowly. Gerard pushed it open for Jean-Claude and followed in with Erik.

The foyer was dark and Jean-Claude stopped waiting for Gerard to light a candle. Familiar with the surroundings, Gerard led Erik to a big stuffed chair then quickly lit a candle abera. Jean-Claude entered the living room, layed Christine down on the small couch, then propped her head on a pillow.

In a few minutes the place was semi-adjustable and Jean-Claude was able to examine Christine more closely. Gerard had repositioned Erik's chair so that it was by Christine. He then examined Erik's wound, "The wound in his chest reopened. It must have happened when he was running. It looks worse than it did this afternoon. I'm going to have to fetch a doctor." Gerard whispered in the dim room.

Jean-Claude wasn't listening, he was deep in thought. After a moment when Gerard didn't hear any response, he moved to the side of the couch, "What is it my friend?'

"Well she didn't faint, that's for sure. There seems to be a large bump on her head and a large cut on her wrist, right here." He gently took hold of her left wrist and showed a large gash with blood staining her arm.

"Wonder where that came from?" Gerard shook his head with a frown. Turning back to Erik, he saw that his son's wound had stained almost the entire wrap that covered his chest. "Jean-Claude, my friend, could you go and fetch a doctor? I'm beginning to worry about Erik."

"Yes, of course." Jean-Claude stood up, "but the doctor will see his mask."

"Not if we can help it. Just tell him, that it is urgent. I'll figure out the rest. God be with you."

Jean-Claude left quickly, leaving the clip-clop sound of the horses fading away down the street.

Gerard set a candle on an endtable next to Erik. Erik rolled his head from side to side. He was grogy from a combination of intense pain and slight shock. "Erik," Gerard whispered. His son only moaned followed by a distinct cry, "Erik, please calm down. Christine will be fine. Jean-Claude has just gone to fetch a doctor he should be here soon."

"It's all my fault...all my fault." Erik repeated again. "Her eyes -- her eyes were so full of fear - a kind of fear I've never seen before." Gerard could see Erik's eyes glow a bright yellow with horror. "Oh, what have I done!?"

"Erik! Control yourself! She will be fine!" Gerard ordered.

"No, Gerard. I am to blame. My face, why did I deserve such a face! What did I do to deserve this horror for a face! My life has been nothing but a nightmare! Always hiding -- not one single friend!" Erik became crazed with anger and agony. "In all my years I have tried to ignore the fact that my face is death, but I can't escape it. It haunts me - in my dreams -- in my every thought...it haunts me Gerard! It caused my one and only love to flee from me! It caused my temper to thrash out! I can't take this any longer! Why didn't you just leave me in the circus to die!" Erik thrust Gerard to the ground and jumped from his chair.

"Erik!" Gerard stood up quickly to stop his son from going mad.

"I don't deserve to live, everyone is scared of me. I'm hunted down like a dog, I cannot walk the streets of Paris like normal people, I have nothing to live for!" Erik threw several decorums off their shelves. Through his fury, he stopped when his eyes caught the glimpse of a small dagger. An ornament piece displayed on the mantel above the fireplace. Throwing off the cover, he held it in his hand rocking violently back and forth.

"Erik no! Don't!" Gerard rushed over to Erik and tried to grab the dagger from his son, but he was thrown to the ground again with strong force.

"Please do not stop me, Gerard!" Erik turned and took a few weary steps into the middle of the room. He held the dagger to his heart. "I have killed, I have done so many horrible things in my life! Now I will end this miserable so called existense!" He tightened his grip on the handle.

"No! Erik!" Gerard reached forward as Erik breathed in, preparing to plunge to blade into his heart.


	8. Chapter 8: The Doctor's Visit

**Chapter 8: The Doctor's Visit**

In the middle of the room, Erik stood still. He was ready to plunge the blade into his heart.

Gerard froze when Erik has suddenly froze still. Gerard watched Erik intensely and realized that the sleeping beauty had caught his sons attention.

Ever so slowly, Erik turned to face Christine. He stood for what seemed like hours - to Gerard - holding the dagger at his heart. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, her lips closed comfortably and her eyes shut dreamily. The candle light lay across her cheeks, making it appear her face was a glow. Such a vision of of beauty.

Gerard held his breath and watched with anticipation. He let out a short breath as he watched Erik's grip on the handle loosen. He heaved a sigh of relief as Erik dropped the dagger and stumble over to the couch. Erik fell to his knees and laid his head wearily on Christine's stomach, bursting into tears. _Thank God,_ Gerard praised and he scooted over to his son. He hesitantly rested one hand on Erik's head and the other on his back. He began to cry himself, not really knowing why.

Awhile after the terrifying display, the sound of horses hoofs were approaching the house. "Erik, Jean-Claude has brought the doctor." He softly laid a hand on Erik's shoulder. He gasped when he left him shivering. Sitting him down, Gerard gasped again, "Oh my...!" In the dark he could see blood had stained all of Erik's bandages. Looking closer, he saw Erik's jaw line was pale. Matters turned from bad to worse when Erik began to shiver violently. Grabbing a blanket, Gerard draped it over Erik, then rushed to the door. He swung it open and Jean-Claude stepped in, "Erik he has lost a lot of blood."

The doctor rushed in with his black bag. Hurrying into the living room, he saw Erik's outline in the chair. "I need light."

"This is all that is avaible, Doctor," Gerard said firmly.

"But I have to see what I'm..."

"No! It's better this way. For you." Gerard ended the conversation, leaving the doctor huff in frustration. The doctor's thoughts were preoccupied when he heard Erik's teeth chattering uncontrolably and the rapid breathing. He rushed over to him and saw the stained bandage.

"How long has this wound been untreated?" He asked investigating the gaping gash in his chest.

"Since this morning." Gerard explained. The doctor investigated it more and stood back in dismay.

"His wound is infected. I need to treat this as soon as I can." He finally said turning to Gerard and Jean-Claude.

"What can we do to help, Monsieur?" Jean-Claude asked.

The doctor looked around the room and stopped at the fireplace, "I need a fire going and he needs to be laid flat on the floor."

Gerard, the doctor, and Jean-Claude hurried to get things ready. The fire was built and Erik was carefully laid on the floor on top of some blankets.

The doctor took a pair of scissors out of his bag, cut Erik's bandages off, and discarded them to the side. He hissed an intake of breath when he saw Erik's torso. He had never seen something like this. He remained calm and quiet. The sudden crack and pop of the fire's sparks, distracted the doctor from his proir thoughts. He turned to the fireplace and stared for a moment. Then reaching into his black bag, the doctor pulled out a surgical knife and placed the blade into the flames.

Jean-Claude and Gerard looked at each other, knowing the doctor's intentions. With a grim expression Gerard took hold of Erik's hand and knelt by Erik's side...his son's side.

While they waited for what seemed like hours, the doctor looked over Christine. "She will be all right, but this cut on her wrist, how did she get it?" He asked sitting beside Christine on the couch.

"We do not know, Doctor," Gerard answered honestly.

"This man was the only one who saw it, I'm afraid," Jean-Claude pointed to Erik, "if anything had happened he would be the one to ask, but as you can see, he will not be able too." Jean-Claude explained.

The doctor shook his head, "There is no possible way that she could have gotten this from falling down. From the length of this cut, it looks like a knife of some sort was the cause."

Gerard and Jean-Claude exchanged glances, "She was only out of our sight for a moment." Gerard expressed.

The doctor quickly wrapped her cut and affirmed that she would be fine, "She will just have a headache when she wakes up." Hearing crack from the fireplace, the doctor stood and retrieved a small metal plate from his bag, "Monsieur, I will need you to bite on this," he slipped it in between Erik's teeth, then went to get the

knife. He pulled it out and winced when he saw the tip was flaming red. Steam sizzled, slightly stinging the doctors eyes. He knelt down beside Erik. Erik saw the glowing blade and immediately began to struggle. It was all Gerard and Jean-Claude could do to hold him down.

"Erik, please. If we do not proceed with this you will die from the infection." Gerard stroked Erik's hair to calm him down. Gerard's vision became blury as tears swelled up in his eyes. "It's all right. I will be right here." He whispered for only Erik to hear. Erik closed his eyes then nodded hesitantly. Gerard then gave the doctor a nod to proceed, then he turned his eyes back on Erik. Both captured each others eyes as the doctor lowered the knife to the infected cut.

The stinging sizzle pierced their ears and a cry of enormous pain echoed through the house as the knife burned his skin. He clenched tight to Gerard hand and bit down hard on the metal plate. The doctor lifted the knife away slowly then observed the cut.

"Doctor! What's happend!?" Gerard eyes opened wide with concern when Erik's eyes roll back and he become motionless.

"Don't worry, Monsieur, he just fainted. I will know tomorrow if the infection has gone away." He stopped, still seeing the worried look in Gerard's glowing eyes. "I believe your son will be all right."

Gerard and Jean-Claude shot surprised glances at the doctor, "How do you know he is my son?!"

"Is he not? You certainly care for him the way a father would." The doctor smiled at his joke, "What, does he not know?" His smile vanished when he didn't get a response. "He does not know?"

"No, he does not." Gerard hung his head.

"I do not wish to pry but not telling someone that you are their father, well...I wouldn't do that to my son. He deserves to know." Another pause loomed as Gerard was charged of depriving his son of a father. "I'll dress the wound and tomorrow morning I'll come back and see how it is progressing. I will put his arm in a sling tonight so he will not damage it during my absense. I do suggest that he keeps his arm in the sling until it is almost or completely healed. After I am done here, I think we should get him in a bed." The doctor looked down at Erik's face. His brow furrowed, he had not noticed the mask before. "Why does he where that?" He began to touch the mask but Gerard pulled his hand away.

"Some things should be left unsaid, Doctor."

* * *

**I saw something like this on a TV show. A man had an open cut that was infected, and to kill the infection they used a poker (instead of my doctors knife) to disinfect it. I hope it didn't sound too corny or fake. If it did, well, I don't really know how to change it. **


	9. Chapter 9: To Love Somebody

_Forgive me, it's been a long time since I've updated...Enjoy!

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_**Chapter 9: To Love Somebody**

_The smell of the sea air tickled his nose as he watched the water lap repeatedly upon the shore. He curled his toes in the lush, green grass as he stared at the setting sun. The bright colors mixed together with the sea. The sea rippled back and forth as it danced with the wind. A cool breeze blew across his bare face. The touch of the soft breeze against his cheeks made him smile. Leaning over, he piered down the long cliff until it met the sea at the bottom. Grinning foolishly, he picked up a lone stone and dropped it over the edge and watched it disappear into the water with a small splash._

_"Son," a soft melodic voice was heard. A gentle hand patted his head. "What are you doing?" Her white frilly dress floated with the wind as she sat down by her son._

_"Watching the horizon," he answered and continued to stare at the sun's fading beauty, the reflection of the brilliant colors sparkled in his eyes._

_The woman tossed back her thick, silky, black hair. "That's not all. You are thinking, aren't you? Tell me, for I would much like to hear your thoughts."_

_The young man sighed, "Mother, you of all people know me best. Ever since I was alittle boy, you've always been there. You understood me whenever I couldn't understand myself; but, I am at that point in time again. Mother, I don't understand my life. Why was I put on earth? Why must I live when I could spend enternity here, with you?" He turned and looked into his mother's brown eyes._

_Her features were as soft as a rose petal and as flawless as the first fall of snow. Her eyes were cast down in thought. After a long pause she looked up at him, "There is a purpose in everyone's life, my son, and they must live their life to the fullest. Everyone must take care of their life, for it is not their own," her voice was breathy and soft, "you are here for a purpose, a great purpose. You are filled with a talent beyond my wildest dreams! Talents that have changed the lives of people that have come into your life. They have learned to love you, for who you are, the beautiful and wonderful young man you have become."_

_"But mother, how can I continue to live in torment?"_

_"Are you in torment, my son?"_

_"Well, yes--I mean I was--still am. I want to live my life as a person who can be loved by other people."_

_"You are doing that, right now!" His mother let out a small giggle._

_"No..." He sighed in frustration, "I mean other people."_

_"Son, if you are not grateful for what you have, how can what you ask for to ever come true?" _

_"I am sorry. I just wish I could change."_

_"Why would you wish to do something like that? Are you not happy with who you are?" His mother put a gentle hand on his shoulder._

_"I wish I could be loved, truly loved. For what and who I am. I thought I had it once, but I was wrong." He hung his head, wishing for that moment to come again. His mother placed a hand on his head and brang him to her chest in a motherly fashion._

_"Give it time, my son. I believe that what you wish for will come true," her son lifted his head to her eyes._

_"You truly believe that what you say will happen?" _

_"I don't believe...I know. But __you__ must believe, my son. Believe with all your heart that it will come true, and it will," she reassured him with her beautiful smile, and a motherly kiss._

_His smile beamed wide as his mother touched his cheek with her soft lips, how he loved her so much. His lips slowly drooped down, "Why did you leave me? I loved you and you left me alone."_

_Her expression became grim as she looked out over the sea, "I am sorry. If that point in time could change, I would change it with all my heart. I've missed you so much."_

_"And I you. Won't we ever meet again?"_

_"Someday, sometime when we will all be taken up together and live forever. It will always be day, and we will rejoice and sing to our Creator, and you will sing."_

_"And you, my mother...I will hear your voice once again," he stopped, "Sing for me so that I may remember how lovely your voice is again."_

_She ran her hand through his thick hair, "My son, I am sorry...but I can't. I am not of your world anymore..."_

_"No please, I beg of you!" He pleaded on his knees, "I need to hear your voice!"_

_"I'm sorry," tears began to fall down her smooth cheeks as she saw how much grief she was causing her son._

_"How will I ever hear your voice again?" His words were barely autible._

_Placing a sad hand on her son's head she surprised him with her breathy voice, "There is a way that you may remember," he sat up eagerly, looking into her eyes, "I have already been with you. Everyday my voice, my song is with you, and has been for two and a half years," a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth triggered his thougts. _

_"You mean..."_

_"Yes. I do," her smile suddenly faded as she turned to the horizon. The once glorious sky was reducing to different shades of blue. Her eyes widened as she turned back to her son, "it is time."_

_"No, NO! You mustn't go, please don't leave me!" He grabbed her arm as she began to stand up. "Please, don't go, I love you, I miss you! I don't want you to go!"_

_"I am sorry, my son We will meet again." _

_Tears streamed down his face as he looked up at his mother with pleading eyes, "How am I to live without you?!"_

_"Live with the ones who love you," tears ran down her cheeks, "I will always be in your heart, my son..." she tried to hold back her tears, "I am so sorry I have caused you so much pain. That is the last thing I would ever wish to do. Please understand that. Tell me you do."_

_After a pause, her son controlled his tears, he slowly looked up at her, "I do," her last comforting touch rubbed softly against his cheek. Her mouth twitched into a smile, which caused the corners of his lips to turn upward. _

_Swirling mist swarmed around the both of them. The breeze picked up and the air became cold. The sky darkened and clouds became thick above them. He whipped his head about at the sudden change in the weather. He then looked back at his mother, "What is happening?!"_

_"It is time for me to go," her son grabbed her hand, trying to stop her, but her hand melted out of his and she began to disappear._

_"I love you!" He called out. Lifting his hand up, to try and touch her fingers._

_As she disappeared he saw her smile, her black hair whisping about her face, her eyes glowed like the stars, as a single tear rolled down her cheek, "I love you too, my son..."_


	10. Chapter 10: The Secret Room

**Chapter 10: The Secret Room**

Rocking his head slowly, Erik heaved a sigh and blinked his eyes open. When he did, he found there was no bright horizon sky, but a dull, white ceiling. _The sea! The sunset! It all seemed so real...it was. Mother._ He thought of her beauty and their conversation. A tear swelled up in his eyes. _How I miss you already._

His thoughts were suddenly distracted when a delicate hand touched his that laid on his chest._ Mother!_ He turned and saw the lovely face of Christine that was smiling at him. He wasn't disappointed but enlightened.

"The doctor was here earlier. He says you will be fine. The infection is gone."

The corner of Erik's mouth slightly twitched into a small smile, _I will hear your voice soon, Mother. _He stared at Christine for some time, taking in her beauty. Suddenly he moved his uninjured hand up to his face to find that his mask was still hiding his face. He then focused on Christine's face again, her long luxurious curls cascaded lazily down her back, her bright, blue eyes sparkled like two crystal pools in the moonlight. Her smooth cheeks, curved nose, and cupid's bow lips brought back such memories of her and him at the Opera House. He remembered stealing secret glances of her as he gave her lessons.

He sensed Christine grew uncomfortable at the length of his stare, so he took his eyes off her and onto his shoulder. It was neatly bandaged, and his arm was resting safely in a sling. His smile faded fast when he remembered the night before. He turned quickly back to her, his eyes becoming blurry, "Christine. I am so sorry."

"Shhhh..." She placed her fingers over his lips, "You rest. You have been through a lot," she began to stand, but he grabbed her hand.

"No Christine. I have been cruel to you. I do not deserve to even see your face, or...hear your voice," both became silent. Christine hung her head down as she turned from him, "Christine, have you sung at all, since I--left?" He watched her as she shook her head slowly.

Turning back to him, he saw her face glistening with tears, "Please Erik, I do not wish to talk about that."

"Why, what has happened?!" He asked struggling to prop himself up on his elbow.

"No, Erik!" She said firmly.

"How is he..." Gerard entered but stopped as Christine ran passed him, leaving Erik in great concern. "Are you all right?" He asked approaching his son.

"Gerard, what is wrong with Christine's voice?! Why has she not sung?! Please tell me Gerard!"

Gerard sighed as he took Christine's previous position by the bed, "It was a month after you had disappeared. She became very ill. She was confined to her bed. The doctor did not know if she would survive, and he did not know how to treat it because he did not know what was the cause. He concluded that she had received some sort of virus, and treated her as such. After a time, the medicine seemed to be taking affect and she was able to get out of bed. We were so grateful, but when she spoke for the first time, she could not utter a sound. Her throat was very soar and it pained her to speak. Her illness left her and she was all well, except for her voice. It returned to her in time, but the doctor said it was unlikely that she would ever be able to sing again."

Erik's heart was crushed. His angel lost her voice, "and she has not sung since?" He finally asked after a great deal of silence.

"No. Many people tried to get her too. Phillipe even tried but she would not sing for–" he stopped, he could have kicked himself for mentioning Phillipe in front of Erik. His son, though, didn't react the way he thought he would. Instead, Erik bit his lip and said nothing. After a moment, with a great deal of effort, Erik managed to sit up and turn to the side of the bed. His feet touching the floor.

"Well, how is the---how is the Count? Persistant still, I persume. Does he know you have been looking for me?"

"Yes, but he does not know anything more," Gerard stood up when his son did.

"I assume he still wants me dead."

"That I do not know, but it is best that you do not cross paths with him. Phillipe has grown very powerful."

"Well, no matter. He can never have Christine or me without a fight," Erik began to walk no where in perticular.

"Erik," Gerard huffed, then grabbed his arm, "where are you going? The doctor said you need to rest?"

"The doctor does not realize that it is my shoulder that is in pain, not my legs. I can perfectly manuver around and it does not pain my arm." Erik put slight pressure on the bandage to hide the pain.

"Erik, I'm serious you need to rest," he started to pull him back to the bed.

"Please Gerard, if I lie down for one more moment, I will become irritable."

"You already are," they paused at Gerard's last remark, looked at each other, then laughed lightly. "Well, if you're not going to listen to me or the doctor, we might as well get you dressed. I can't have you walking about the house, with no shirt."

* * *

Gerard gave Erik one of his white shirts and black slacks. Not able to find shoes the right size, Gerard decided to go out shopping for some after he finished helping Erik look presentable, as much as they could. Gerard led, bare-foot Erik, down a small set of stairs. Half way down the stairs, Erik stopped, blinking violently from the light that burned his eyes. He covered his eyes, "The light is too bright, Gerard!"

Gerard glanced at the large window that was in the living room. The sun lit the whole room and up the stairs. Rushing over, he closed the drapes and rushed back to his son. "I am sorry, Christine must have opened them. Come," he continued leading Erik down the dark stairs. Dark was what Erik had been used to, even at the circus, always in darkness, bereaved of light.

Showing Erik a tour of the lower level of the house, Gerard then led Erik into the small kitchen. "Would you like something to eat, Erik? I do not know how long it is been since you last ate."

"I do not either, but I am fine, Gerard."

"Nonsense. I will not have my -- I will not have you starve. You must eat something to get your strength back." Gerard looked into the stove and saw some food Christine had made and left to keep warm. "Some eggs and ham." He put the plate before Erik, who sat at the small wooden table. "I will get you some coffee." The coffee was still warm and Gerard poured two cups then sat across from Erik.

Erik searched about the room to find Christine but she was no where in sight, "Is Christine still here? I hope I did not frighten her away."

"I am sure you did not." Gerard sat back and watched Erik eat the food before him.

Erik couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. He had forgotten how good plain eggs and ham could taste. He ate it heartly and swallowed the delicious coffee, which tingled his spine with warmth, in one swallow.

"Where is Christine?" Erik asked as he set the cup back down.

"I imagine she went out for a while, with Jean-Claude," Gerard thought it up at the last minute. He hoped Erik didn't suspect that Christine went to see Phillipe. They had plans to see each other that day, and Gerard didn't want his son to know. If Erik did, though, he didn't show any sign. He just judged the quaint kitchen.

"How long have you lived in this place?" He asked, reajusting his arm in his sling.

"A little under two years. I was offered my managing job back, when Alain Cholet left, but since you disappeared I turned down the offer. I was not the one with all the talent."

Erik laughed haughtily as Gerard refilled Erik's cup with steaming coffee. He remembered running the Opera House. "Has anyone found my _living quarters_?" Gerard refilled his cup, reluctant to answer. "Gerard, has anyone found out that I lived down there?" Erik asked again.

After a long pause he finally answered, "Phillipe. Phillipe did. When Christine came out through the mirror, that night, Phillipe figured out how to get down there the same way. He went through the mirror and found your house--" Gerard stopped.

"Gerard, do not do this to me. Tell me, what did he do?" Erik commanded.

"He um....destroyed your mother's portrait," he was almost afraid to look at Erik, afraid at how his son would act.

Erik's mouth crimped and his eyes narrowed as he breathed rapidly, "I have had just about enough of the Count! So help me, Gerard, I will put an end to him, if it's the last thing I do!!" He banged his fist furiously on the table and stormed out of the kitchen.

"Erik!" Gerard called out, going after him. "Please, do not use killing as an answer," he grabbed Erik's left arm, the uninjured one.

"Do not try to protect him! He's a snivelling, caniving---" He stopped before he said something he might regret, "---Theif!" was the best he could think of at the moment. "He's trying to torment me. Taking away everything that I hold dear. He tried to take Christine away from me, and now he's doing it again! She's out there with him right now, is she not! Him, saying all kinds of rubbish that makes her stay in his arms! Those betraying, infamous arms...yes! I know what he was and still is up to in the Opera House, Gerard. Doing the same thing with every ballet rat, every young actress who happened to fancy his black heart. Then one girl who finally showed kindness to me, had to be swept away by the Count! It is not fair, Gerard, and I intend to do something about it!" Erik paced back and forth like a caged lion in the living room.

"Erik, control yourself. If you kill him Christine will be very upset and then you will loose her forever!"

Erik stopped, "So, I am to loose either way, is that it!"

"No, Christine loves you."

"How can she love this!!!" Erik tore off his mask in a terrible rage and faced Gerard.

Gerard looked at his son's face, remembering how it happened, the drug. The drug his mother bought from that gypsy woman. How he wished he could have found her sooner and stopped her before she took it. As much as he loved Belladova, he cursed her for such a foolish act.

As he tried not to wince at Erik's face, he moved closer to him, "Erik, please, Christine has a special place in her heart for you. You were more than a teacher to her. You gave her her voice, and she is eternally grateful."

"Ah, but now she won't try sing again. She wont let anyone hear that beautiful voice again. What shall I do, Gerard?"

"Tell her how you feel. Give her your heart."

"What if she chooses not to accept it?"

"Then, if you love her that much, the best thing you could do for her is to let her go."

Erik bowed his head turning away from Gerard as he cried from that terrible thought. "My life will be over if Christine does not love me. I am not capable of competing with the Count. He is rich and does not have a face like this. What have I to offer her? A life in hiding." He put back on his mask with some difficulty.

"Erik, I know that is a painful thought, but if you do not tell Christine your feelings, she will never be yours to have," he turned his son around, how he wished he had the courage to tell him he was his father and comfort him like any father would, but he knew he didn't have the courage yet. "I'll go and get you your shoes, Erik. Stay here and do not do anything rash."

Erik sat down on the couch and nodded as he watched Gerard leave. Wishing he could go too. To go outside and walk the streets with no one staring at him or shrinking back at him would fullfil his long desired dream. To have to cold breeze blow freely across his face, to be live in the sunlight, instead of darkness, but he knew that could never be. He was to be forever confined to darkness. Never to leave by day, only at night. Pacing about the room, board with what to do, he sighed and looked about the room. He hadn't really seen what it looked like last night. He was too drowsy to notice anything. It was a nice little room. There was a couch, two large stuffed chairs separated by an endtable, and a candleabera resting on its surface. Pictures hung on the walls he didn't recognize. Pictures of people and a variety of things he had never seen before. He turned around and stopped suddenly at something that caught his eye. Every corner in the room was bright expect for one. One corner that stood in complete darkness. A corner that held a small hidden door.


	11. Chapter 11: Memories

_Hopefully these three chapters will keep you busy for a while...I will try to update as often as I can.

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_**Chapter 11: Memories**

Gerard had not shown him that room, he would have remembered. The door was carefully hidden in the dark, it would only be seen if looking hard. He walked up to it and inspected the old handle. Seeing that it was loose he carefully turned it so not to break it off. Opening the door slowly, he stood at the threshold staring into darkness. Taking a step forward into the room, he then stretched out his left hand as a guide.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the room. To his relief, he found a candle resting on a small table. Finding a light he struck it and picked it up. Peering around the room, he gasped upon seeing familiar things. A book laid on a small form, covered by a sheet. He set the candle on the covered object and picked up the book. The title, William Blake. His favorite poetry book. It was the very same one Christine read during their picnic. The last day they saw each other. He flipped some of the pages, and stopped when he saw the familiar lines that came from Christine's mouth.

_"...My mother bore me in a the southern wild, I live in darkness, but __my soul is light. Light as the forehead of an English child, but I'm in __darkness and bereaved of light..."_

He remembered his mother and how he loved to hear her read this book to him. He remembered when he didn't have to wear a mask around her. He didn't even know his face was deformed until he looked into the lagoon. As he thought back he was surprised his mother never mentioned his face. Whenever he would play with her she would smile at him and say he was beautiful. What joy he remembered having with her, but never understood why they lived in hiding. A tear formed in his eye as he thought of her; but quickly whiping it away he went on with his investigation. On a table placed in a corner was a basket, he opened it and found the very same contents that were in it the day Christine and him went for their picnic. Two glasses and a bottle of wine wrapped in a soft white cloth. He smiled as he remembered taking her through the _woods_ under the Opera.

_"...Do you like these woods of mine, this ancient glade of elm and oak, this wonderous haunt?" He spread his arms out, while holding the picnic basket, displaying his wonderful forest. _

_"Yes, very much!" Christine laughed as she circled around, looking at the glorious scenery._

_"One can get quite lost in these woods, if one doesn't know the path, or have a guide who does. Once there were only endless, dreary volts in these lands, gloomy barren corridors. A wilderness of stone. No light at all, no love, no loving kindness," he paused, "Shh...sparrow, yes...the morning birds? A dove perhaps. Ha-ha. We'll see. Phesants too are here, and dear and squirrals, geese and rabits, all playing most harmoniously, like this magic music, you are magic too, I think." _

On the same table was a dark object folded neatly. He closed the basket and felt the object. Velvet. His cape! He smiled, and took the material in his hand. He whipped it about him, with some difficulty and rested it on his shoulders, leaving the ties dangling on his chest. He wriggled his shoulders underneath the fabric. It felt good to be in his cape again. Twirling around, he played with his cape until a wooden case caught his eye. Walking closer, he smiled in delight at the sight of all his different masks. He realized that he never really wore them, but it was good to see them again.

Why had Gerard kept all of this? He put his hand in each cubby-hole. Each mask had a different memory. He stopped at one. It was red with black and yellow stripes. Black feathers framed it and horns stuck out on the top. His smile faded as he remembered wearing this mask when he killed Carlotta on the stairwell. He could still hear her scream as he scent volts up the stairs and into her body.

_"...Then you leave me no choice!" Erik disappeared behind stage as a drunken Carlotta climbed the stairs._

_"No you leave me no choice! Help! Help! He's here on the stairwell!" Carlotta cried._

_Erik charged back out with a cord in his hands, "What you did to Christine I find almost as shocking as you will find this...!!" He put the cord to the metal railing, and it shot volts up and into her body._

Erik shuddered, _that was a long time ago_. Even though he hated her with every fiber of his being, there was some part in his heart that felt guilty and sorry for what he had done.

His mind quickly changed from the depressing mood when he remembered the covered object that the book had rested on. Erik walked over to it, and removed the candle and the book. Then sweeping the covering off, he stood back in sheer amazement. There stood the small harpsicord that aided him in teaching Christine how to sing. He remembered also the grand piano which he used as well as the harpsicord to teach Christine to sing. He especially remembered the time he used the piano when sang to her, singing that she was more beautiful than music itself.

_"...Fa, re, mi, do...Oh! You are music! Beautiful music, and you are light __to me. Oh you are music, moonsbeams of music, and you are life, to me."_

Fingering some of the keys, he played the melody, whispering the words._ Oh this was wonderful!_ _To have some of my possesions back, except my mothers portrait!_ He pounded his fist on the keys trying to control his sudden surge of anger.

Erik sat at the harpsicord for some time, playing different chords he remembered. After a while, he realized that he should probably leave, for Gerard was due back at anytime. He hesitantly took off his cape, and placed it back where he found it. He blew out the candle, and as he made his way to the door, he turned around one more time to gaze at his things before he shut them away. He closed the door behind him, letting his fingers linger on the knob for a moment, then dropped his hand to his side, leaving his world in that room.


	12. Chapter 12: A Close Call

_Author's Notes : Sorry...it's been so busy...so sorry...heres the next chapter!_**Chapter 12: Close Call**

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Erik walked down the long corridor, exploring more on the upper level of the house. As he did, he passed a large mirror that hung on the wall. Stopping, he turned to face it. The frame was magnificent but old. Rust had taken hold of the frame and the corners were chipped away.

Erik ran his hand over the surface of the glass, whiping away the dust from the mirror, then brushed his hand absent-mindedly on his pant leg. He stared at the masked man in the mirror. Staring for a long moment, he contemplated on seeing the true Erik. He shook his head, not wanting to remember what his face looked like, yet there was a small desire growing inside him.

Reaching behind his head, he slowly removed his mask. He hesitated, then firmly straightened up and looked into the mirror to see what it would tell.

He was completely startled letting out a drastic gasp. He had not seen his face in so long that he had forgotten how horrid it was. Beginning to cry, Erik smacked his cheek, "Why do you always have to cry. Just face the facts. You are ugly, and you will always be ugly. Christine will never love you," he put his mask back on, hiding his face from the world and himself.

He began to drift into deep thought and was careless with tying the ribbons in the back (for one thing it was hard enough with one hand) "Oh you stupid fool, Erik!" He scolded his thoughts of hearing Christine say he was beautiful. In his deepest dreams he wished she could smile at his face the way his mother did. His thoughts stopped abruptly and his head shot down the hallway upon hearing the sound of a knock at the front door. "Gerard?" Erik came to a halt at the top of the steps.

"Hello?" A man's voice called from behind the door. It sounded familiar. "Gerard, are you home?"

Erik's eyes narrowed and bit his lip when he realized who it was, Count Phillipe de Chandon! Thoughts ran through his mind on how he could hurt him. It would give him great pleasure to do so, but he suddenly remembered Gerard words of caution, _"If you kill him, Christine will be very upset, and you will lose her forever."_ Gerard was right, he couldn't kill him. He looked down at his arm realizing that he couldn't do anything with his arm in a sling. He couldn't let the Count see him either. He slowly ducked into the nearest room and peered around the doorway. He stared down the hallway and waited for the Count to leave, but he didn't. Erik became worried as he heard the door open and shut. _He's in the house!_

"Gerard, Christine told me you were back and I wanted to say hello," his voice pierced Erik's ears. _Christine had gone to see Phillipe_. _Couldn't he get it through his head that Gerard wasn't home._

Phillipe's footsteps scuffed the floor as he went through the rooms, looking for Gerard. _He'll see that Gerard is not here then he'll leave._ With Erik's luck, Phillipe didn't leave. Erik's heart pounded hard as he heard Phillipe stop at the foot of the stairs. Erik backed into the room looking for a place to hide. Not thinking, he gasped when he backed into a small table. Losing his balance, he fell back and it collapsed underneath him.

"Gerard? Is that you? Are you all right?"

Erik heard Phillipe rushing up the stairs. Where could he go? He was trapped! Looking around the room anxiously, he saw a bed with just enough room for him to fit under. He rolled under it, muffling his cries of pain. Through the draped quilt that barely touched the floor, he watched the threshold of the room. Two black, polished shoes appeared at the doorway. He closed his eyes hoping with all his heart that Phillipe woudn't find him, not like this. Phillipe could probably kill Erik easily since he was temporarily handicapped. No, he would fight Phillipe another day when he was capable of using both arms. He opened his eyes and continued to watch as the Count's feet stepped into the room.

A gust of air brushed passed his face from the stirring of the quilt as Phillipe passed by. _That was peculiar_. He felt the cool air touch his face. That does not happen often. HIS MASK!! His eyes darted across the floor and stopped when he saw his mask right next to the broken table. It had not been tied properly so it had fallen off. Oh, how he wished by some miracle Phillipe didn't see it.

He continued to watch, his heart ready to stop at any moment. Phillipe walked over to the broken table and stopped. Erik held in his breath as he saw a hand appear and pick up his mask.

Phillipe stood up with the mask in his hand. He looked about the room realizing that his most foul enemy was here somewhere; still alive and ready to ruin his plans with Christine. With a growl, Phillipe threw the mask back down and stamped out.

Erik dropped his head to the floor with relief. He heard faint noises; opening and closing of closet doors and different banging sounds as Phillipe madly searched the different rooms on the upper level. Erik's heart seemed to pound madly when he heard the threatening voice of Phillipe. "I know you are here, Phantom, you can hide but not for long! Come out and fight like a man! Or are you a coward?! Yes that's it! A man who hides for his life, that's what I would call him!"

Erik bit his lip hard, trying not to call out in anger.

"I have my plans for you! I've been planning a welcome home present for you when Christine told me she was planning a trip. Yes, I knew she had ideas on where you might be. Now that it is confirmed you are here. This will be most enjoyable to be able to deal with you in the way I've always wanted and Gerard..." He laughed devilishly, "...and Christine."

Erik's golden eyes flashed like fire. He was ready to shout "_if you harm her!"_ but he covered his mouth with his hand, not trusting his lips without it.

"Yes, I have my plans. Christine is mine, Phantom. I do not know how you survived the crossing, but you wont survive long enough for Christine to fall for you again. She is mine! Do you hear me!"

Erik could not resist it. Phillipe was standing close to the threshold again. With a angry grin, Erik threw his voice beside Phillipe's ear and whispered, "May the games begin."

Phillipe turned swinging a punch to the air. He was taken back but it but froze when the front door opened and closed. "Gerard," Phillipe called from the top of the stairs, hiding his anger as much he could.

Gerard's face was sheer white, "Phillipe, when did you arrive?" He forced to say, almost dropping the sack and box in his hands.

Phillipe trotted down the stairs, "Christine said you were home so I stopped by to say hello. I took her to her apartment."

Gerard forced a smile and glanced about the room for Erik, "Well, that was very thoughtful of you, Phillipe. Thank you kindly."

"Not at all."

"Yes, well if you don't mind, I have some things to attend to," Gerard, opened the door and smiled warmly as Phillipe began to leave.

Phillipe stopped, gave Gerard an uncomfortable look, said, "Au voir," then left.

"Au voir," Gerard called back, gently closing the door nonchallantly. He then locked it. "Erik!"

"Up here, Gerard."

He dropped the bag and box and galloped up the stairs. Running down the corridor, he stopped when he saw Erik crawling out from under the bed, "Erik! What on earth!?" He started to rush over and help his son up but Erik held up a halting hand.

"No, Gerard. I can manage."

Gerard's brow furrowed in confusion, but his question was soon answered when he noticed Erik kept his face turned away from him. He looked around and saw Erik's mask on the floor. He picked it up and handed it to his son, "I swear that I did not know Phillipe was coming over."

Erik took the mask and struggled to put it on, "I know. He came looking for you. Said Christine told him you were back," Gerard bent down seeing Erik having trouble with his mask, so he tied it and then pulled his son up. Erik then turned to Gerard, hidden by his mask, with worried eyes. "He knows I'm here."

"What?! What did he do to you?!" Gerard scanned over Erik to make sure he was all right.

"He didn't do anything. He could not find me, but he found my mask. I tripped over that table and when I fell my mask came off. I did not have enough time to retrieve it before he rushed into the room, thinking it was you."

"What did he do?"  
"He was livid. He said that he did not know how I survived the crossing, but I woould not be living for long."

"That fool! _He _hired someone to kill on that ship, that's what he did! We are going to have to be careful now. Phillipe will probably hire someone else to try again," Gerard could see his son suddenly fall into deep thought. "What?"

"When Christine ran from the carriage last night, I saw someone hovering over Christine. As much as I hate to admit it, I think killer on the ship was the same one to try and kill Christine."

"Why would Phillipe hire someone to kill Christine? He loves her."

"Yes, but if she does not love him he is going to make sure she does not love anyone else."

"We'll just have to keep an eye on Christine and be careful around here. I will lock the doors at night. Someone might try to kill you again."

Erik sighed, "The joys of being Paris' infamous Phantom."

Gerard chuckled, "Yes," he snapped his fingers, "I almost forgot, I have your shoes. I also fancied a suit."

"Do you have that kind of money?"

"Only for emergencies and for an occasion like this. Come, let's get you dressed."


	13. Chapter 13: Father and Son

**Chapter 13: Father and a Son**

Soon Erik was in dashing attire, similiar to the kind he wore when he lived under the Opera House. Black ankle boots, black slacks, a low V, white ruffled shirt and a heavy dress coat jacket with tails to finish the look of the Phantom. Still with his arm in his sling, he came down the stairs and showed Gerard the suitable appearane. "You always had talent in picking out costumes and material."

"Good, I was afraid it would be too big."

Erik grunted as he reajusted his arm in the sling and walked in to the living room. "No, but the boots are a bit large. No matter, no one will notice," he looked down at his shoes and clicked the heels together then smiled in approval.

"I'm glad to be of service," Gerard grinned, taking a small bow.

Erik glanced about the room, his eyes rested on the hidden door in the corner. "Gerard. Have you shown me every room in this house?"

"Yes."

Erik sighed, "Do you swear to that, Gerard?" He turned to the older man. He could tell by Gerard's sudden change of expression that Gerard knew he was caught.

Gerard glanced over to the door. "You found it, didn't you?"

"Yes," Erik took a few steps to the door, "Why have you kept all those things?" Erik walked across the room to the door, turned the knob and opened it.

Gerard bowed his head, knowing it was time to tell Erik that he was his father. He walked over to the thresh hold and led the way into the dark room. He lit the candle and moved around the room, lighting other candles that Erik had not noticed before. Gerard had done this many times before. It was his comfort room.

Soon the room was bright with light, "Erik. When you left apart of me left with you. I prayed that you would come back, but after about a month, it seemed hopeless. Jean-Claude and I took some of your belongings...these..." he spread his arms out jesturing to all the objects, "...and hid them here. When I would miss you, I would come in here and look at all your things."

Erik walked towards the middle of the room, hardly able to speak. Gerard really cared for him, "Thank you...Gerard. You do not know how much this means to me."

Gerard nervously tugged on his pant leg. He did not know quite how to phrase it. "Erik..." the young man turned to look at him, "...the real reason I--I mean...the reason I kept these--what I'm trying to say is that..."

"...is that you are my father," Erik stated. They both stared at each other, Gerard shocked and speechless.

"How--how did you know?" Gerard voice was reduced to a whisper.

"Well, it was not hard to figure out."

"How long have you known?"

Erik chuckled, "Quite awhile. I just figured you would tell me when you felt it was the best time," he paused seeing Gerard's still shocked expression, "I have known you ever since I was born. You have cared for me in the opera and kept me secret. Besides, why would someone keep all these things, if it was not his sons posessions?" There was a brief pause, then Erik smiled with a chuckle, "and my eyes, being the only part of my face that I can look at in a mirror without braking it, I have noticed that they are not my mother's, they are yours. In addition to the way you walk, the things I do, they are traits of a father and son."

"Erik, I'm sorry..."

"Do not be. I am just flattered--" Erik choked back his sudden overwhelming tears, "flattered that you were always there for me, like a real father. Besides, how could one tell the Phantom of the Opera that he was his father."

Gerard moved closer, "It was not that, Erik. It was not that at all. I was afraid, knowing that someday I would have to abandon you and I could not bear the thought of not being able to take my son along if you knew," tears welled up in his eyes. He grabbed his son and pulled him into his arms. Fighting the pain Gerard was causing his shoulder, Erik slowly wrapped his left arm around his father. Finally, he had a father. Someone who loved him for who he was. He had a family. He smiled at the thought of his father hugging him. This was really happening. He remembered what his mother said in his dream, _that he was loved for himself_.

This happy moment, as all of his happy moments, vanished quickly as his thoughts fell upon Christine. Pulling away, slowly, Erik looked with worried eyes at his father.

"Erik, what is the matter?"

"Christine. The Count said that Christine was his and he had plans for her. What could he mean? What if something happened to her? I could never forgive myself."

"Erik, do not worry. I will keep my eye on her."

"This is all changing, Gerard. I am no longer under the Opera House with Christine there, knowing that she was safe. I cannot even leave this home to watch her. What am I suppose to do? I do not want this burden placed on your shoulders," there was silence as Gerard seemed to be in deep thought. "What Gerard?"

"Maybe you can," he looked up at his son with a slow grin appearing on his face and the same twinkle that his son had inheirited from him. Erik shook his head in confusion, what was his father thinking?

* * *

**_More will come soon!! A nice LONG chapter_**


	14. Chapter 14: Erik's Domain

**Chapter 14: Erik's Domain**

Three days had passed since Phillipe had almost found Erik. The doctor had come back in the middle of the night and removed the sling, saying Erik's shoulder had improved and he did not need the sling any longer. Without Erik's knowledge, the doctor was paid handsomely before he left by Gerard to keep silent.

Now being able to move his arm almost comfortably, the Phantom and Gerard had begun planning a way for Erik to sneak back under the Opera House. "Christine will be there with Phillipe, tomorrow morning. It is suppose to be a surprise. He is going to take her through the whole Opera House. I know this because he told me. I do not know what his exact plans are for her but he's hired many chefs and decorators to do something."

"Do you think he told you to get to me?" Erik asked.

Gerard thought, "I don't know."

"He knows that you know I'm here, since he found my mask."

"You are right."

"All the more fun to fool the Count," Erik smiled with a devilish grin as scheeming plans began swimming through his ingenious brain.

"Now Erik..." Gerard pointed a warning finger at his son.

"Don't worry, Gerard. I know my way around that place like the back of my hand. I lived there, remember?" Erik looked at his father, him still not approving. "My my you _are_ acting like a father."

"What sort of scheems are running through that brain of yours?" Gerard asked.

Erik tossed a hand and shook his head, "It's for me to know, but I will say now that I'm on the mend..." He lifted his free arm that once was in a sling, "...this will be a day the Count will never forget," Erik laughed, sending chills up his father's spine.

* * *

A fancy carriage with the de Chandon emblem designed on both sides drove up to the enterance of the Opera House. It came to a stop and the footman jumped down from his perch to open the door. Phillipe came out and handed Christine safely to the side walk. "Oh Phillipe!" Christine cried as she gazed at the enormous theatre.

Phillipe smiled, "There are more surprises awaiting you as I lead you on a tour through the Opera. It will be like old times," he held out his arm for her to take. Hesitating a moment, Christine shrugged and politely entwind her arm in his.

They walked up the mounds of stairs and into the large doors. The foyer was as glorious and enormous as Christine had remembered. She had not been here since Erik disappeared.

As they made their way leisurely through the main level of the theatre, they passed by some of Phillipe's _women_ who sneered, whispered jeering insults and inquiries when they saw and remembered who was in the arms of their Phillipe. "Where are we going, Phillipe?" Christine ignored the girls and asked quietly in Phillipe's ear.

He smiled and patted her hand, "It's a surprise."

* * *

Gerard arranged to have Jean-Claude bring a carriage at his house within the hour. Erik hid his mask with a wide brimmed hat that he pulled down over his face. His cape billowing around him. Gerard handed his son a walking cain, then suggested that Erik take off his cape, "It attracts too much attention," he said. Erik reluctantly untied the cape and handed it to Gerard, who folded it up and tucked it under his arm. "There, you look like the average gentleman going for a walk."

Out the door, they quickly made their way to the carriage. Geard chuckled at the way Erik glided over the payment. _He's back,_ Gerard thought and followed his son into the carriage.

"So I presume we are just going to walk down to my lair from the Opera's enterance?" Erik said across from Gerard, taking his black cape from Gerard and covering his lap to escape the chilly air.

Sensing his son's sarcasm Gerard rolled his eyes, "No, a long time ago, when your mother told me to bring her down underneath the Opera, she told me a specific way. I think I still remember it."

"Where?" Erik asked, appauled that he was not told of this enterance.

"Behind the Opera there's a secret door from the alley. It is dark and narrow all the way down to the lake," Gerard explained as the carriage rolled through the quiet streets of Paris.

"Hmm...funny mother never told me," Erik crossed his arms and let out a huff.

"Well, no one ever knew what was going on inside of your mother's head." Gerard finished their conversation. The rest of the way was quiet neither having anything else to say or add. Erik recapped about his home under the Opera.

_I wonder what it looks like now that the Count had been down there? He probably ruined my home. I'll have to clean up the mess he made._

His thoughts soon turned to schemes as he remembered all the tricks he built behind the walls and the secret doors that all led to one main tunnel and down to the lake. He couldn't wait to see the Count's face full of fear as he was planning to scare the egotisical wealth right out of him.

The carriage came to a stop and Gerard peeked out of the window. They were in front of the theatre. He let out a slight gasp at its beauty," Jean-Claude, take us around back," Gerard called.

"Right, my apologies," Jean-Claude clucked and the carriage jolted forward.

Erik grunted and touched his shoulder. A slight pain came back, "You know, I never liked carriages."

They soon came to another stop. Erik and Gerard both peeked out the window and saw the lonely dark alley. "Ah, that's more like it," Erik smiled at the comforting dark that swallowed up the narrow alley.

Gerard stepped out and said a few words to Jean-Claude, "Thank you Jean-Claude. You won't get into trouble I hope."

"No no, I have the run of the place. Anytime you need more assistence please ask," Jean-Claude looked at Erik who quickly stepped out, "Be careful," he whispered to Gerard.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine, aduei," Gerard reassured his friend with a smile, and Jean-Claude drove off back to the opera's stable to put up the horses and carriage. Gerard turned and followed Erik down the alley.

"Now where is this secret door you know so much about and I don't?"

Gerard ignored his son and began examining the walls, leaving Erik standing there. Erik soon became aggrivated for he hated standing with nothing to do. "Is there something you need to look for to trigger this door?" He asked.

"Um, one of these bricks. You have to push in and it opens it," Gerard answered not turning from his work.

Erik's eyes widened, purely stunned, "There is over a thousand bricks here! You expect to push everyone?! It would be easier to just turn myself in."

"What was that?" Gerard asked absent mindedly.

"Nothing. I don't want to disturb you, you look busy," heaving a sigh Erik lifted his hands to start pushing on the bricks. He pushed on the first one and was thrown forward when the brick was sucked in and the door imediately swung open. Erik then disappeared into the dark hole. Several thuds and loud grunts came from inside the door frame. After a moment of realizing what happened, Erik picked himself up. Standing at the thresh hold he leaned against one side and propped one leg in front of the other. "Is this the secret door you were talking about?" He asked.

Gerard turned and saw the gaping hole circumfircing Erik, "Oh good you found it," He walked up to Erik and passed him, disappearing into the dark.

Erik turned, "Not even a thanks do I get," he said loud enough for Gerard to hear.

"Come along," his fathers voice was heard in the distance.

Erik grunted then smiled as he followed his father into the tunnel. He liked being able to carry on jests with his own father.

It was pitch black and narrow, just the way Erik liked it. The smell of musk reached their noses, making Gerard pinch the foul stench from his nose, but Erik was quite use to the smell. As their eyes became adjusted to the dark Erik turned his head left to right, looking at everything to see if he could recognize where they were. He stopped suddenly when he noticed a candle abera hanging on the wall. It caught his attention because two of the candle holders were bent down and in a peculliar shape. He smiled, "I knew I knew this place," his voice echoed as he walked over to the candle abera.

"Erik, we do not have time for games. It's a good walk to the lake. We must keep going or we won't be in time for when Phillipe and Christine arrive," without a word Erik looked at his father with a schemish grin, "what? What do you see?" His father asked.

"My dear Gerard, not everything you see is what it appears to be."

Gerard could not make any sense of what his son was saying. He watched as Erik slowly reached his hand up to the wall that was holding the astranged candle abera. His mood changed suddenly to shock as he watch Erik's hand seem to go through the wall. "Good heavens man, what are you doing?! What is that!?"

Erik turned back to Gerard, "You can only see it if you really look, Gerard. Mother showed it to me when I was young. She said if there was ever a need to escape I was to come here. No one would see it. She bent these so I would recognize where the hiding place was," he touched the candle abera gently, remembering his mother's fingers had touched it. He turned to Gerard who was still confused and utterly shocked, "It's an illusion, Gerard. Look, there is another wall right next to it. In the dark you can't see the different walls," Erik explained as he experimented. Gerard gasped as he watched his son _walk through _the wall but didn't seem to run into it. "Come Gerard," Gerard hear Erik say.

Gerard hesitated, but slowly walked towards it. Still thinking it would not work, Gerard shut his eyes ready to smack into the wall. He happy to know that he didn't run into the wall, but what he did was run into was Erik. He opened his eyes and saw Erik holding a flaming torch. Amazed Gerard turned to see the two walls together. From the side it was two ordinary walls right next to one another. From the front you couldn't see it.

Gerard turned back to his son who laughed out loud, "It fooled me too, but I investigated it closer one day and saw how it really worked. Now, come. We don't have time, we must return to my home. Come, it is not far," Erik pointed the torch down a short hallway and it let off an eerie reddish glow.

Following Erik now down the hallway, Gerard peired over his son's broad shoulders and saw light at the end of the tunnel. "This looks familiar."

"Yes..." Erik said as he turned the corner and stopped Gerard bumped into him. Gerard moved to the side and saw the eerie green lake before them. The little light they had was amplified by the lake's reflection which threw it off the stone walls. The green light reflecting off the walls made them look like emeralds. Forming fog swirled above the surface of the water. Erik smiled realizing how much he missed this wonderous haunt. On the other hand the chilly air and the glowing lake gave Gerard a sudden shiver. Following Erik along the side of the lake they found Erik's boat still docked at the wharf. They were quite surprised at how little damage was done to it. Erik shrugged and said he would repair it later, but encouraged that it could hold both of them down to his home.

Gerard sat in front with the torch now in his possesion. Erik pushed the boat off and he jumped into it, causing the boat to rock harshly. "Don't do that!" Gerard ordered. The last thing he wanted was to plunged into the eerie green water.

The corner of Erik's mouth twitched up as he steered the boat from behind. Both became dead silent the rest of the way. Coming this way gave Gerard the chills, he preferred going the long way, but Erik liked the short cut. The tunnels they ventured into were dark and damp. All the candles that once burned brightly, let no light to ease Gerard's nerves. Rats crawled along the ledges, scrounging for scraps of food and looking for a place to make their home. The quiet ripples of the water that lapped up against the boat soon became still again as the fog silenced their movement.

What seemed like endless hours was only a short few minutes and soon to Gerard's relief, they came to the big archway that neared Erik's home. Gerard saw a lever sticking far out on right side of the wall. He watched as Erik reached out and pulled it down without loosing his balance or making the boat rock. Gerard was impressed. Erik had done it so much that it was just like breathing in and out. The lever, in its down position, gave off a click, followed by a shaky rumble. Gerard darted his eyes forward and saw a portcullis rise up from the water, letting them pass underneath.

The small wharf was in sight. Gerard could not believe how happy he was.

Guiding the boat slowly up to the wharf, Erik made it come to a calming stop and stepped out of the boat. Setting the gonodlier stick on the ground, he turned back to the boat and tied it to the dock in one swift and silent motion. From Erik's position, now standing in front of the boat, he looked down at his father. Gerard could see in the dim light Erik's eyes glow gold as he reached out a hand to his father. Gerard clasped it and with a strong force was thrusted forward onto dry land. He nodded to his son in a 'thank you' manner finished their journey.

Up a small incline and a short hallway, a door appeared in front of them. "How much further?" Gerard asked, growing impatient.

"We are almost there, Gerard. Keep tight," Erik opened the door to reveal a flight of stairs. Erik turned to his right. A lantern sat on a small shelf. Knowing exactly where the flint was, he lit the old candle and descended down the stairs. It was all Gerard could do to keep up with his son.

At the bottom, it drastically opened up to a big room. His home. The ceiling disappeared into the dark, giving it a large feeling. Gerard saw his son smile, "Is it the way you remembered?"

"Yes," Erik handed Gerard the lantern and ran off to explore the rest of his domain. He opened a door which led to his music room. The room was huge. A large grand piano, much bigger than the one in the secret room at his father's place, still rested in its usual spot in the middle of the room. He remembered teaching Christine at a piano in of the music rooms of the opera. At the time, Christine didn't know he was the Phantom of the Opera. She thought he was just an anonymus voice teacher, and Erik wanted to keep it that way.

Erik went to the next door and opened it, his bedroom, all in black. The tall canopy bed arched in its usual position. The bookcases still stood, but all the books were off their shelves and scattered across the floor.

He gritted his teeth in rage as he remembered Phillipe had been down in his home. _He probably ruined it all, and I had it in aphibetical order_. Erik was a bit of a perfectionist. He inwardly cursed the Count as he shut the door behind him. He turned and stood still as he saw a beautiful hand carved door in front of him. He walked slowly towards it and grasped the sliver door knob. Turning it he slowly opened it and stood at the thresh hold. The appearance of the room was different from all the rest of the rooms. This was furnished and had random pictures hanging on the smooth, white wallpapered walls. There was a soft white canopy bed framed in gold. The design was elaborate and expertly crafted. The sheer curtains still surrounded the bed. Large white pillows, covered with dust rested at the head of the bed.

He turned his gaze from the bed to see a frame destroyed in several pieces. The canvas painting which once was displayed inside the frame, was torn in peices across the floor. Erik's jaw stiffened as he rushed towards it. Sitting down on the ground, he picked up a piece of his mother's once beautiful portait. The worn canvas that he held in his hand smiled back at him. That same beautiful smile he remembered. The beautiful face of his mother was still there, it hadn't been destroyed.

"Erik I..." Gerard walked quickly in and stopped when he saw the destroyed portrait.

Erik stood up, his back turned to his father, "Yes, what is it?"

"I just wanted to tell you that the Count and Christine have arrived already."

"Well then, let's get to work," Erik turned, his eyes squinted in an evil expression that set Gerard's nerves on end.

* * *

**Ok it was really hard to describe the illusion wall. If you've seen Laberynth with David Bowie, then that's basically what the wall is like. The girl walks **_**through**_** it sort of. It's with the little cute worm. Well, Erik and Gerard do the same thing, but there's no worm.**


	15. Chapter 15: The Opera Populaire

**Chapter 15: The Opera Populaire**

Phillipe led Christine up the grand staircase, and down the right hallway. "Close your eyes, now." He smiled, as Christine giggled and obeyed, putting out her hand for him to take. "Keep them closed. No peeking."

"I won't." Christine smiled underneath the hand that covered her eyes. He led her into an enormous room. Leading her to the middle of the room he stopped her.

"Now open your eyes." He tickled her ear with his soft whisper.

Smiling uncertainly, Christine let her hand fall to her side and opened her eyes. She gasped, "Oh, Phillipe! This is wonderful! How did you ever do this?!" She stepped closer to a magnificent table, filled and decorated with fancy catered food, and beautiful candle abera's. Flowers too were there, all around, displaying bright and cheery colors that swirled glorious scents around the room and tickled Christine's nose.

"I have my ways," Phillipe shrugged, as if it were no big deal. Her face shined with delight as her nose wrinkled up, making Phillipe's heart seem to skip a beat.

"You like it then?"

"Yes, very much!" Christine laughed putting her arms around him.

Phillipe beamed a grin as he brang her close to him, not knowing that was someone watching them from behind the wall. Erik's jaw tensed as he wished

disturb their date. He finally controlled himself, knowing that he would have his little te-ta-te with the Count soon enough. As soon as Christine left the room, he would leash out his magic. Erik turned his head as Christine embraced Phillipe. He remembered those very same words she exclaimed as he showed her his magnificent forest.

"Then let us enjoy this meal, as a celebration," he crossed over to the table, and pulled out Christine's chair.

"Celebration?" She walked over and sat down as Phillipe pushed it in.

"For you being back, spreading your beauty in the Paris Opera House once again," he took his seat acrossed from her. Erik had to agree with the Count on that, but that would be the only time.

"Thank you, Phillipe. You are very kind and a good friend," she spread the satin white napkin acrossed her lap.

Phillipe grunted to himself at her last remark. He wished she would love him the way all the other girls did, but even more. Shrugging it off, they began to eat and Phillipe enaged in a conversation that was most uncomfortable for Christine, and Erik sensed it as he listened to her. "So, did you enjoy your trip?"

Christine cleared her throat, "Yes, I enjoyed it. It was very..." she stopped to think of a word, "...scenic." She bit the inside of her lip, knowing that was a stupid word to come up with. Erik stifled a laugh from behind the wall at Christine's description.

_What ever possesed her to say that word? _Christine pinched the corner's of her mouth back and bowed her head, in her usual routine, to show her innocence. "Thank you Phillipe for the money. It was very...nice of you," she patted his hand across the table.

"Anything you desire, Christine, it's yours." Erik rolled his eyes, at his flattery. "Well, tell me what you did. You said you would tour the streets of England, did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, the streets, shops, and cities were magnificent...I'm glad I went." Christine picked at her food nervously, wishing he would change the subject.

"Did you see, or find anyone you might have wanted to see...?"

Christine cut his sentence off as she accidently knocked her champaine glass, which shattered and spilled over the table. "Phillipe I'm so sorry!" Christine gasped at the mess she had made.

"No, it's quite all right." Phillipe rang a bell and within two seconds a maid appeared at the thresh hold. "Clean this up," he ordered. The maid curtsied and quickly started gathering the broken glass in her apron. Christine stood up and whipped the exas wine off her dress.

"Phillipe, will you excuse me. I must go freshen up."

"Yes, of course. Would you like me to go with you--I mean escort you?" He bit the corner's of his mouth, punishing himself for such a careless remark.

"No, I remember the way. I shan't be long. Again, my apologies." Christine exited the room with a sigh. That conversation was getting too detailed for her.

The maid had cleaned up the mess and walked out as silently as she had came, leaving the Count standing in the room by himself. He smiled at the thought of Christine. _What a beautiful woman. Soon she will be mine_...

Suddenly his thoughts were interupted when a gust of mysterious wind blew out most of the candles. Leaving them to set off the smell of cooling wax. He turned and stared for a moment at the candles. Then he nervously shrugged it off...suddenly he gasped, the piano in a dark corner of the room began to play loudly. Distorted music, much more like someone banging on the keys. "Who's there?" The Count asked after he built up some courage. He was answered by silence. Phillipe whipped his head about when a vase fell and crashed to the floor. "Who's there?" He asked, more of a tremble in his voice. His breath became heavy when a distant eerie laugh echoed in the room. It chilled his spine and he shook suddenly at it tingled his body.

Then as it seemed to be in his mind a mystific voice whispered, _"Did you think you could get rid of me?"_

"Answer me, who's there!?"

_"That's no way to greet an old 'friend.' "_

The Count's jaw line shot forward when he regonized who it was."I might have known! I forgot that you are still living and in Gerard's home, as it were. Well now that you're here come out, Monsieur and fight me like a man!"

_"Man? I'm no man...remember I'm a ghost!" _A black figure appeared in the large mirror on the wall then disappeared quickly. Phillipe caught a glimpse of the black cape.

Phillipe rushed to the mirror like a mad man, "You can't be all ghost. Ghosts don't have a heart, as you have one for Christine!" Phillipe circled the room, "I know you love her. It's quite obvious. You have possesed her like a demon. The sparkle in her eyes, the way she walks and talks, it's all directed to you! I will take care of that, Phantom or Erik or whatever you are...!"

"_IF YOU SO MUCH AS HARM ONE HAIR ON HER HEAD, YOU WILL WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN!_" Erik's voice boomed so loud in the room Phillipe covered his ears. The glasses, the candles, and the walls shook at the loudness.

"You do not scare me! I have my plans already arranged, Christine's and my future is all planned out! I have your futured arranged as well! Yes, it is all planned out!" He laughed wickedly. "Christine is MINE!" He laughed louder as he backed up to the center of the room, his laughter was suddenly cut off when he tripped over a chair that had been mysteriously placed behind him. He fell to the floor and he heard that faint mystific voice inside his mind again.

_"We will meet again, Monsieur. At your burial."_


	16. Chapter 16: Another Close Call

**Chapter 16: Another Close Call**

Phillipe quickly picked himself back up as he heard the click of the door and saw it open with Christine walking in. "Ah, Christine. I trust everything is well?" He said with a plastered smile. He quickly smoothed his black slacks.

"Yes." She smiled and joined him, "What are you doing in the middle of the room? It's so dark in here."

Phillipe thought, "Uh–I was...w-w-waiting for you...to come back. And well I thought we could go onto your other surprises that the candles were not nessecary anymore," Christine smiled confusedly as she saw a dark cloud sparkle then fade away in his eyes.

"Phillipe, is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing's wrong. When you are with me how can anything possibly be wrong? Shall we make for the next surprise?" He held out his arm and led her out. As they left, Christine looked over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. She knew something went on in there.

As the door closed Erik reached for the button to open the mirror. It was different than the one in Christine's old dressing room. This one just a sliding panel. Christine's mirror displayed all Erik's magic as it actually brought her through it.

He stepped out then closed the panel. He crept to the door, cracking it open he listened to the diminishing voices of Christine and Phillipe. Wait, Phillipe's seemed to be getting closer.

"I apologize, Christine. I forgot my pocket book. I must have left it in here..." as he finished he swung open the door. Erik jerked back and hid behind the door. Phillipe walked over to the table and looked around for his supposed pocket book. Erik couldn't see for sure what the Count was searching for on the table but he knew there was no pocket book on the table. He remembered watching them as they ate, Phillipe had never placed anything on the table. Erik's eyes widened in worry as he saw a glint light flash. As Phillipe turned the Phantom pressed himself as far as he could into the corner, afraid he'd be caught. He could see perfectly well that the Count did not hold a pocket book but a silver knife! The young man tucked it into his brest pocket as he walked towards the door.

Erik held his breath as Phillip stopped at the thresh hold. He couldn't see Phillipe as the Count turned back into the room. With evil squinting eyes Phillipe looked to his right where the door was. He paused staring at the door, a faint smile appeared on his face as he slowly grasped the knob in his hand. With the other hand he reached into his pocket for the knife. He was going to enjoy this. He knew the Phantom, the only thing that prevented him from having Christine, was behind that door. He anticipated Erik's moves and was going to react on them. He gripped the knob in his hand and held tight the the knife in the other.

Erik knew he was caught. He should have known that Phillipe had become smarter over these past two years. Now he was trapped. There was no secret panel that he could hide behind, nor any weapon on his person to defend himself; but he was going to fight strong. He did not want to die a coward. He looked down at the brass knob and saw it wriggle as Phillipe grasped it ready for the kill.

"Phillipe," Christine's saving voice was heard from both men. Phillipe threw the knife on the ground to the side and with a deep, angry sigh he hesitantly shut the door.

"Yes yes, coming," His voice was heard from the other side of the wall, as jolly and light, and his footsteps diminished down the hall.

Erik let out a huge breath and collasped against the wall; but he tensed up quickly when he was startled by a faint click that penatrated the room. His eyes shot across the room as the mirror opened. "Gerard!" Erik said in relief.

"That was too close, Erik!" Gerard walked up to his son.

"You saw then?"

"Yes, the whole thing. He had his hand on the knob and the knife in a dagger position ready to swing it shut and kill you!"

Erik looked at the door, invisioning Phillipe, "Monsieur le Counte is smarter than I thought."

"You will have to be more careful." Gerard advised.

Erik looked at his father with a questionable look. If he did not wear his mask you would see his right eyebrow raised, "My dear Gerard, living on the edge is what I live for. I certainly will not be careful on the Count's behalf; but I will have to be for Christine's sake." Erik stepped away from the corner and joined his father in the center of the room.

"How did your visit with the Count go?" Gerard asked as they walked towards the mirror.

"He was nervous at first, I could tell in his voice, but he wasn't scared as I hoped. I think our Count has become stronger and more menacing since my absence."

"Ah yes, I will have to agree on that. He became a different man while you were gone. He is not the timid gentleman he was two years ago."

"The cub as grown into a lion. Well, that just makes it more challenging for me. I love challenges," Erik smiled as he pushed the button on the mirror. It opened and he stepped into it, but Gerard did not follow. "Gerard, are you coming?"  
The older man's brow furrowed in thought, "Erik, I want you to be careful. I believe Phillipe has made connections and plans, anticipating for your return. There is no doubt that he wants to kill you."

Erik paused then reassured, "Gerard, whatever the Count is planning it will not follow through, I am sure of it. He may be smart but he is not as smart as I. I have learned several things at the circus. Being beaten everyday paid off a little. I watched many of their tricks of torture and illusions and learned their ways. I will not let the Count have Christine."

"Because you are in love with her yourself and you want her too." Gerard stated.

"No. That is part of it, but I cannot let that man have Christine. He only loves her for the fame she could acheive. Her beauty, her voice, all very important to him; but he does not see where her true beauty lies, in her heart. That is where I see her beauty, and that is where I have learned to love her."

Gerard stood in shock. His memory flashed back to the day when he was fired and Monsieur Cholet and La Carlotta took over. Erik had heard La Carlotta's voice and moaned in agony. Erik ordered that Gerard should find him a girl with beauty and a voice like a lark. That was all that concerned him.

Gerard knew his son was greedy and a sympathetic seeker; but now Erik was loving this girl for the right reasons and that was the thing that shocked him most.

"You are much wiser than I had thought. I guess 'prison' does change a man's heart." Gerard said with a smirk. "I will do whatever it takes to help you keep Christine away from Phillipe."


	17. Chapter 17: A Stranger In the Night

**_Author's Note : I kinda like this chapter...Erik and Christine begin a more beautiful, honest relationship. Please R&R!_**

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**Chapter 17: A Stranger in the Night **

That evening after the wonderful day spent at the Paris Opera, Phillipe brought Christine to her small apartment.

She had found her apartment just about the same time as Gerard found his home. Since she was not able to stay at the opera and there was no way she would live at Phillipe's estate, she decided to find a place of her own. She was an independant and determind woman. It was a very small two room apartment with a water closet, a sink, and a stove. Christine never liked to live a life of glamor. Ever since she was traveling with her father on the road, she became accustom to and enjoyed the simple life. Besides she would not be able to affored a large apartment. She had to rely on her old job, selling music in the market place. Business was pretty good, just enough for her to make ends meet, which was all she ever wanted

Phillipe had never cared for her apartment and had always offered her money to find her a large, roomy place to stay. He even offered to pay the rent, but Christine refused. "There is just something about appreciating things more when you have earned them yourself," she would tell him time and again.

The closed carriage came to a stop in front of the apartment building which was Christine's. Phillipe stepped out and helped her to the side walk. She said her good-byes and climbed the front steps of the apartment building and was about to enter when Phillipe stopped her. She turned as he rushed up the stairs. "Christine, please. I cannot bare to see you sleep in a place like this. Will you not let me find you a more suitable place to stay?"

"Phillipe, we have gone over this many times before. I love it here, I have a bed, a sink and a stove. That's all I need. Now before you argue anymore, I will say good night," she gave him a peck on the cheek and quickly disappeared to the other side of the door. Phillipe brought a hand up to his cheek where she left her good-bye then slowly mingled down the stairs. He stopped, seeing in the corner of his eye, a tall lampost stood with a soft glow. A black figure leaned against the poll, twirling his pocket watch. His large brimmed hat and cloak made him a mere shadow. The figure looked at Phillipe and Phillipe nodded at 'goodnight'. The figure responded with a nod. Phillipe then entered into the carriage and headed off to his large estate.

Christine leaned against the door, letting out a sigh of relief. Phillipe held a special place in her heart, but sometimes she felt he was getting too pushy about affections.

Gathering up her weary limbs she climbed the stairs to get to her room. Unlocking the door she opened it and entered into the dark. She closed the door and felt around for the oil lamp. Finding it on the table, she quickly lit it and replaced it with the things that were in her hand, her purse and key.

As she headed for her bedroom she was suddenly startled when her window swung open, by a gust of wind causing the window sill to bang against the wall. Christine placed a hand over her chest trying to calm her heart. She set the lamp down and closed the window, making sure it was firmly locked.

When she turned to finish her mission to go to bed she saw that the little fire on the wick was out. All that remained was the string of smoke rising from the wick and disapating into the air. "That is funny. I do not remember it blowing out..." She gasped suddenly as a gloved hand covered her mouth and another wrapped around her waist. Her eyes widened at the firm grasped her captore had, but her fear quickly vanished when a familiar voice whispered in her ear.

"Do not be afraid, it is Erik," Christine sighed, closing her eyes in relief, then sinking into him. His grasp on her arm and mouth loosened.

"How did you get here?" Christine asked.

"Gerard, he brought me here," he replied.

"How did you get in the door was locked?" Silence fell between them as Christine smiled at her dumbness, "The window."

"Of course, I have no fancy tricks to play outside the Populaire."

Christine felt a different air about him. It was not quite the same as it had been when he was injured, innocent and real. Now he was shadowy, mysterious, and confusing. Yet, there was still something different about him. He seemed filled with maturity, intelligence, and poise. He seemed taller than she remembered. How he towered over her. It was not an intimidating tallness, more like a newness of life.

She also noticed he had full cabability of his arm. Christine cast her eyes down and noticed his billowy, black cape swaying over the floor. It was not like as before. Before, he seemed like a creepy shadow floating over the floor, now the cape seemed to just guard him from the cold. Even his usual dark attire, seemed to give him a more intelligent look. To finish this different look, his usual white mask instead matched his attire, black. "Erik, why have you come?"

"Forgive the hour. I know it is late. But all I ask is a moment of your time. That is all I need, to explain," he let his arms fall to his side and disappear inside his cape.

"Explain?"

"Christine, the last two times I saw you, you had a look of terror in your eyes, and it was all my doing. I spoke harshly, then I spoke unjustly. I have been ill at ease since then and have come to ask for your forgiveness. I am sorry that I hurt you. That is something I dread to do. How is your wrist?"

Christine looked down at her wrist, remembering that night when she ran from the carriage, then the time when she ran from his room. "It is much better, thank you," the corners of her mouth turned up slightly, "I seem to always be running away from you. I wish that could change."

"It is my fault"

"No. Everything is not your fault, it is mostly mine. I am the one who cannot accept--" she stopped, "--but I want to. Really I do. Please, give me some time, Erik."

"I will give you all the time you desire, as long as we can remain friends."

"We have always been friends, through the good and bad," a peace swept over the both of them. Christine did not know how drained she was from the tention they seemed to have between them. It had really taken a toll on her heart. Now that this tention was gone, she was spent. It also surprised her to hear him say the things he did. He really had changed. He was clever in his days at the opera, but he never was really mature in his actions or words. He was humble and truly wished the best for her.

"If you wish to visit me at any time, I will not be staying at Gerard's house any longer, it is too risky. Now that I am well, I have moved back into the Opera. It is quite a mess down there since the C--" He stopped. Christine did not know that Phillipe found out where he lived and destroyed the place. "--Since I have been gone."

"Thank you for telling me. I will come visit you some time. We could listen to the new opera that is opening soon."

"Nothing would please me more.

"I remember being able to hear anything on stage underneath the drain."

"And you would dance and sing along with the scores--" he stopped, remembering her condition. "Forgive me"

Christine shook her head as if it were not bother, but became suddenly distracted by something on the wall. A shadow that looked like a figure crouching. Christine's eyes widened with horror as she shot her head across the room at the window. The source was a black figure holding a pistol in his hand and was aiming to fire.

Erik saw the sudden fear on her face and quickly darted his head in her direction. Her terrified scream was smothered by a thunder crack and the shattering of glass. She was pounced upon and hit the ground hard. Her eyes were closed tight with fear. What seemed like ages, was only a few seconds, and all returned to silence.

The pressure in the air became heavy as Christine dared not open her eyes but at the same time wished with all her heart that she could. Her frozen form soon melted as she heard Erik's warm, deep voice. "Christine!" The worried whisper was warm and encouraging when it swept her face. She slowly opened her eyes and seeing Erik inches from her face. His hand swiped her cheek, in panic, trying to revive her. "Christine, please say you are all right!" He became frantic at not hearing a response.

"Yes--yes...I'm fine," She whispered, trying to relieve him, even though her head was spinning from the hard hit. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I'm all right, I'm all right, " she reassured him as he held her. After a moment, she gazed up into his eyes which glowed with a reducing worry. His golden eyes, a trait she had missed often.

"Are you sure?" his voice trembled.

Her lips let a sigh escape, her heart racing at his deep voice and his closeness. She was confused, this feeling never came to her when she was with Phillipe. She has even been kissed by Phillipe and has never felt any feeling as she felt right now in Erik's arms.

Swallowing back an unstable voice, she forced out, "Yes--yes I'm sure."

"I do not think it was ment to hit you, merely a warning of some sort," he looked up at the window, seeing that the figure had disappeared.

"Why do you say that?"

"From the range that he shot at even a blind man would not have missed."

"You are right..." Christine cleared her throat, suddenly remembering seeing the figures eyes in the night. She shuddered and pushed herself closer into the ruffles on his shirt.

"Come," he pulled her up to her feet gently. He let go of her but quickly grabbed her again before she fell back. Her head was spinning wildly. "Are you sure you are all right?"

Christine nodded meekly, staying in his arms for a moment longer.

"I think you should sleep," Erik swooped her up in his arms and carried her into her bedroom. He felt a slight pain in his shoulder, but nothing that he could not handle. He protectively carried her into her bedroom and rested her on the bed. After draping blankets over her, he started to pull away.

"Erik," Christine grabbed his arm before he left.

He turned to her and sat down on a wooden chair beside the bed. "Yes?"

"Who do you think would want to kill me?" She asked her brow bent in a concerning look.

Erik looked down at her hand and slowly took it in his gloved one, to reasure her. _Phillipe must be becoming aware of my whereabouts. I must be more careful_. He thought for a moment, to think of a reassurring answer, "Someone would have to be insane to want to try to kill you, Christine."

"What if he tries to come back? I'll be alone," Christine's eyes flashed with fear.

"I will stay, if you want?"

"Please, Erik. Please stay."

Erik nodded, then pulled the covers up over Christine's shoulders, "You must try and get some sleep now."

Christine shuttered, "Erik, would you sing for me?"

Erik sighed a weary sigh, closing his eyes. He had not sung in over two years, but a lullaby came to mind. One he could always sing beautifully. One his mother had sung to him when he was little. He opened his mouth and began to sing the most beautiful lullaby. The haunting melody, lulled Christine into a deep sleep. He kept hold of her hand, continuing to sing softly into the night.

**What Erik sang was the same lullaby from the movie. When Charles Dance is singing Christine to sleep. I thought it was so beautiful, so I had to put it in my story.**


	18. Chapter 18: Notes

**Chapter 18: Notes**

The next morning Christine awoke to the warm morning sunshine. She smiled at its warmth, different from October's cold wind. Fluttering her eyes open, she slowly sat up. After putting a hand on her forehead to try and stop a sudden dizziness, she looked about the room. "Erik," she suddenly remembered last night. Looking at the chair that sat beside her bed, it was empty, but in his place was a small piece of paper folded neatly in the center of the seat. Quickly repositioning herself on the side of the bed, Christine unfolded the note, which read:

Christine,

I stayed until I felt sure you were safe, then concerned myself with my safety and left before the sun rose.

Christine, you cannot know how grateful I am to you. Thank you for your understanding and your compassionate heart.

Erik

He certainly had changed in these past two years. She smiled as she folded the note and placed it back on the chair. She freshened herself, changing her dress and washing her hair, and readied herself for work.

She went to the plaza, with music sheets in hand, and began selling them to the peddlers. The crisp wind nipped at her cheeks causing them to redden. She wrapped her shawl over her head then pulled her heavy, wool coat tighter around her. "Songs for sale. A song with a melody so gentle and flowing and free. A melody to make you happy, a song to bring you joy. Songs for sale." Christine was always good with words, and many peddlers and tourists bought songs from her.

"Songs for sale. A haunting song, full of grace and mystery. A song to make you the toast of Paree," she stopped by a father and daughter, "why with this song, your daughter could become the next opera star!"

The father smiled at the amusing thought, "I will buy your song," he gave her the priced amount, "merci."

"Merci, Monsieur. Good luck," Christine tucked the coins into a full pouch. Today was the best day for selling. She had never known a day where she had sold more. What made today any different? Maybe it was not the day, but Christine. She did feel different, and realized that she certainly acted different.

"Still in the same place I found you, Mam'selle," Christine turned to see Phillipe raising his top hat to her.

She nodded a 'hello', "And completely content, Phillipe."

"No doubt about it. I have been watching you for some time. There is a different air about you. You seem as though you are the happiest woman in Paree."

Christine beamed a grin, "I am, I guess."

"I trust it is because you are back in Paree?"

Christine nodded hesitantly, "I guess you could say that."

"Paree certainly agrees with you. May I ask to escort the 'happiest woman in Paree' to lunch?"

Christine thought for a moment, "I just spent all day with you yesturday. Are you not tired of me?"

"Tired? Of you?! Never."

_Have you ever thought that I might want a day to myself? _Christine knew that if she declined, he would persist until she agreed. He was sweet, but very persistant. "Well then, I believe I can spare a little time for lunch, but please Phillipe, after lunch I must go back to work."

"Of course. Your wish is my command," he held out his arm and escorted her into his carriage.

Lunch was surprisingly pleasent. Phillipe did most of the talking, but it was about things Christine enjoyed. He talked of his travels and she listened intently, imagining the different adventures he went through. After lunch, he took her back to the busy plaza.

"Oooh, it is busy. Business will go well today," Christine smiled happily.

"I wish you well. Someday I will want to hear these songs you sell sung by you."

Christine's smile went away on the difficult subject, "Aduei, Phillipe."

"Good day," he kissed her hand and she exited the carriage.

The rest of the day was better than the morning. By the time three o'clock came, she had run out of songs. "Well, that's that," she shrugged contently as she packed up her things leisurely.

"Excuse me, Mam'selle," Christine heard a tiny voice.

She looked down to see a young boy looking up at her, "I am sorry, but I am out of songs."

"I am suppose to give you this. I man gave me two franques to deliever this note to you," the little boy held out a folded note.

Christine took the note, then reached into her money pouch. "Well, here is double for the time you took to deliever this," she smiled at the boys excited look at the pieces of cold in his hands. "You are to save these. Do not spend them idoly."

"Merci, Mam'selle!" He ran off and disappeared in the crowd.

Christine then looked down at the note. Nothing was written on the outside. Opening it curiously and read :

_I can see you. I do not like your hair that way. Do not wear it like that again._

Christine threw the note to the ground in terror. A wave of fear swept throught her and she could not move. She fearfully searched the crowd for a sign of someone, but she could not see anyone. Slowly, she packed up her things, then pulled her coated protectively over her throat. Looking around again, she slowly grabbed her briefcase, but dropped it with a gasp when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned quickly around to see Gerard.

"Oh!" She fell into his arms.

"Christine, what is wrong?"

She pulled back, a look of fear in her eyes, "Someone is watching me."

"What?"

She looked down at the note on the ground and he picked it up. After reading it, he crinkled it in his fist. "I am sure it is nothing serious, Christine," he said reassuringly, slipping the note into his pocket. "Why don't I take you home. You will feel better after a cup of tea."

"Yes, thank you," Gerard grabbed her stand and briefcase, then in the other hand, guided Christine out of the plaza. All the while, he searched the plaza for someone who might look suspicious, but his results were the same as Christine.

She did feel much better sitting at her kitchen table with Gerard across from her and a cup of hot tea in front of her. "Thank you, Gerard."

"Not at all. Like I said, it was probably just a prank. Nothing to worry about."

"I suppose you are right," Christine smiled slightly, trying to reassure Gerard and herself.

Gerard sensed her tention and switched the subject, "You know, now that it is you and me, I have something to say," he paused a moment, "as Erik's father, you can not begin to know how grateful I am that someone like you would grow to -- develop a friendship with him -- being the way he is. At first, I did not know what to think of it, and I must admit that I did not really approve, but looking back in the past and seeing the present, your kindness and love has changed my son's heart. As far as I am concerned, I am in your debt." Gerard's eyes glistened with grateful tears, "Thank you, Christine."

Christine began to cry with joy. She reached across the table and took his hand, "Erik has changed my life. He has brought me so much joy and happiness. He brought out a part of me that I never knew was there. You can be proud to have him as a son," she let out a childish giggle, "stubborness and all, he is a wonderful man."

The two exchanged pleasentries for another hour, then Gerard said goodnight. Christine had forgotten all about the terror of that afternoon and was getting ready for bed. To unwind for bed, she decided to curl up with a book and a cup of tea. She wrapped a blanket over her lap, snuggled into the small stuffed chair, and was about to open the book when something on the floor caught her eye. A piece of paper laid on the floor by the door. She set the book down and went over to the door. She picked up the note, fear rising inside, and unfolded the piece of paper.

_I can see you. You will be seeing me._

Christine gasped and fell back in shear terror. She dropped the note like it was a burning coal, then bolted the door. She shoved as many things as she could against her door and covered her windows. Shaking violently, she sunk into the couch and buried herself underneath the blanket. Horrified tears burned her cheeks as she sat in silence. It seemed like hours and hours of terrorizing silence. Christine did not know when she had drifted to sleep but it was no comfort to her. Horrific nightmares filled her head.

_Running in a dark forest that never seemed to end, she shook with fear. Not knowing what she was running from or who. Her body ached. She was cold. Suddenly, a red light appeared in the darkness some distance from her. It was not a comforting one. It seemed to be the source of her fear. She gasped and began running from it, all the while it kept the same distance from her. She gasped when she tripped over a branch and fell on her hands. The ground was wet and the dirt stained her dress and hands. _

_Suddenly a black hand grabbed her shoulder. She screamed..._

"Christine! Christine! It is all right."

Christine was drenched in sweat, and was out of breath. She looked up in the dark and saw a shadow above her. Two hands reached for her and she wrestled frantically in self-defense.

"Christine, please calm down. It is I, Erik." In that moment she saw two soft glowing eyes in the dark.

"Erik!" She sobbed dramatically.

He sat next to her, and she crawled into his safe arms, still sobbing. "It is all right," he said in a soothing voice.

"Hold me," she pleaded, grabbing his shirt with fear.

"It is all right," he had never seen her this scared before and it worried him. "Christine, you are safe now. You are safe. Try and rest. Sleep in peace." He continued to calm her sobs and he felt her body slowly relax. After a while, her steady breathing, deduced that she was asleep. "Sleep well," he whispered and kissed the top her head. He stayed there the rest of the night, never letting go of her.


	19. Chapter 19 : A Night at the Opera

_Author Notes : This is probably my favorite chapter. And after this one, the games and the real dangers start to begin..._

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**Chapter 19 : A Night at the Opera**

The next morning, Christine fluttered her eyes open. She saw the door baracaded and was puzzled for a moment, "oh," she sighed when she remembered the terrifying night before.

"You are awake?" A voice asked her.

Christine drew out of someone's embrace quickly, then realizing is was Erik, she relaxed. "Yes."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Better. Thank you for coming, but what made you come last night? You seemed to know when to come and rescue me."

Erik sighed, brushing his fingers through his hair, "Gerard came to my home last night and he did not look well. After a while of interrogating him, he finally told me about the note you received. He assured me he left you quite safe, but it seems you were not as safe as he thought. What happened that made you so frightened?"

"After Gerard left I found a note underneath my door. It was just the same as in the plaza. I became so frightened. Erik, he says he can see me. How?"

"I do not know, but I promise you," Erik grabbed her hand, emphasizing his point, "I will end it. No matter how, I will end it."

"Thank you."

An awkard pause loomed between them. Either one not knowing what to say. Erik became lost in thought and Christine tried to fix her hair.

"You needn't bother, Christine, you are beautiful, as always."

Christine smiled, "Thank you, " she had been told that she 'looked' beautiful all her life, but when Erik said, 'you are beautiful,' it had a different feeling to it.

"Do you know what you need, Christine?"

"What is that?"

"A night off."

"Off? From what?"

"The world, and I have just the thing," with that he left.

Christine lightly chuckled wondering what he was planning in his mind, then went to make herself look presentable. Later that morning she was going to go to work, but decided to just stay home. She had done so much travelling that she had not just stayed home in a long time. So she did what any young woman would have done to preoccupy her time. She cleaned.

Later that evening, as she was cooking herself a quaint dinner, there was a soft knock on the door. "Who is it?"

"It is Gerard," the familiar voice brought a smile to Christine's lips.

She unlocked the door, "Come in, Gerard. It is so good to see you."

Gerard thanked her and entered. He could smell the cleanliness of her little apartment. "Well, I will not have to ask what you did with your time today," he laughed. "You did a beautiful job. I bet you were anxious to attack it after you came back from travelling."

"Yes," she smiled, "it was exhausting but it was well worth it. What brings you here, Gerard? Would you care to say for dinner? It would be no trouble."

Gerard pondered the invitation, "I would not mind a home cooked dinner for a change. I am a little weary of my cooking. You're sure it will be no trouble?"

"Not at all," Christine was off baking. As she did, Gerard helped in any way he could, conversing on light topics like the cooler weather and pleasent memories from the past. In no time they were sitting down eating a delicious meal.

"This is wonderful, Christine. I guess women are natural cooks."

Christine giggled then said, "You still have not answered my question from before. What brought you here? Was it just a random thought or was there a purpose to your pleasent visit?"

"Oh! I'm such a fool," Gerard shook his head at his forgetfulness. "This is the reason for my visit." He pulled out a note from his coat pocket. "He wanted it delievered in person so not to startle you."

"Ah," Christine nodded then took the envelope from Gerard. She opened it and read :

Dear Christine,

On the evening of the end of this week, will you be so kind as to come to the Opera House. A surprise awaits you. Further instructions are on a separate paper.

Your Friend,

Erik

Christine frowned, "What is this?"

"I do not know. He did not tell me anything. I know as much as you."

"I wonder what he is up too," she looked at the second piece of paper. It was detailed instructions of where to go in the Opera House. "Instructions?"

"He must be planning something really special."

"Then I cannot wait!"

They discussed the possibilites of the surprise during the rest of their meal, continued to chat in light discussions then Gerard said his 'good-byes.'

As Friday approached, Christine became more anxious than ever. She tried to keep herself preoccupied so time would move quicker, but nothing seemed to speed up the time. She even went with Phillipe to some all-day events to keep her mind of the surprise, and to her surprise it helped a little.

Finally, Friday arrived and Christine was jittery with excitement. As the evening approached, she dressed herself up, pulled back her hair, and left for the Opera House. She arrived to see the Opera's grand front stairs were filled with people entering the playhouse.

"An opera. I must keep track of these things. I would have loved to have seen it," she read her instructions and followed them to the back of the playhouse. It was a little spooky, but she new that Erik would have picked the safest route. Her fear of walking in the dark under the opera soon disappeared when she saw her pathway was light with candles on the walls. A left turn, a right turn, down a hall, down a flight of stairs, where was he taking her? Everything was brighter and brighter as she approached her destination. With that, she could hear the chatter and footsteps of the audience above her. "Underneath the stage?"

She turned the corner at her last instruction and stopped at the sight before her. It was quaint picnic setting with candles all around. A champagne bottle stood between two glasses and a basket with food was placed behind it. Erik was running a hand through his silky black hair as she appeared. "Erik," she exclaimed at the wonderful sight.

He turned, "Do you like it?" He stood back from the display in front of him as she came closer.

"Yes, it is beautiful," Christine looked up at hearing instruments tuning.

"We are right below the orchestra. We will be able to hear the singers as if we were in the front row," he smiled as Christine laughed, "do you like it?"

"It is a wonderful surprise. Thank you."

"I already checked, but Box 5 was already taken," he said with a slight humor. Christine laughed at a flash of memories of him as the Phantom of the Opera.

"Well, what do you expect, The Phantom of the Opera is dead," Christine's heart skipped a beat at the handsome grin Erik beamed followed by a nod in agreement.

The orchestra sounded stronger, three taps were heard, and all became silent, "We are just in time," he helped Christine to the ground as the orchestra began to play the introduction. The opera began and the chorus sung gloriously. Erik started to describe the show plot and setting to her.

"It is all right, Erik. I know enough Italian to understand the story. Besides, just hearing these beautiful singers sing is more than enough," she rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes. The opera continued and when the audience clapped, Christine clapped. She imagined the dancers prancing around the stage and the lovers singing about their tragic love. It filled Christine with such happiness. Erik had apologized several times for not being able to see the performers, but Christine shushed him, "If you say you are sorry one more time, I'll--I don't know what I'll do--" She laughed, "You do not need to apologize, this is a wonderful suprise."

"I have come hear many times. This is where I would listen to the opera's."

"It is the perfect spot," Christine smiled dreamily as she closed her eyes again.

"But I have never enjoyed it as much as I enjoy it now."

"Being with someone you care about makes a difference in anything."

The evening went by and the opera ended with thunderous applause. Christine jumped up and clapped wildly, "It was beautiful! Beautiful! Simply marvalous! Bravo!"

Erik stifled his laugh. He was so happy to see Christine in so my joy. It had been a long time since he had seen her this happy, and he was so pleased to be able to bring joy to her.

She had never felt so happy before. It was like having found a part of her that was lost for so long. She looked down at Erik, who was leaning against the wall, beaming a smile. She collapsed upon him, laughing like an excited child. "It was wonderful!"

Erik looked down at her, her head on his chest, "I am glad you enjoyed it."

"Very much!" She hugged him. The clapping diminished and the voices of the audience leaving, echoed throughout the place Erik and Christine were. She looked up at Erik, "Thank you for the wonderful evening."

"You are quite welcome."

The evening slowly passed by. The noises of the crew became less and less as they finished their jobs and went home. Christine and Erik stayed where they were, talking of adventures, dreams, and fantacies they had as a child or still have. They talked of the castles in Ireland, the towers in New York, and the pirates in the Caribbean. They told of stories they heard when they were children, and they laughed at the silliness of ghost stories.

The remaining candles burned a soft glow, the comfortable silence surrounded them as they dreamily sat their. Christine felt comfortable against his pillowy, ruffled shirt, and was cozily warm underneath his cape draped over them. The steady up and down of his chest and his smooth, lyrical voice lulled Christine into a sleep.

"Christine?" He whispered, but there was no response. He chuckled, resting his head against the wall. How much he enjoyed the evening, and to have her close and safe in his arms was all he could ever ask for. He made sure the cape was securely around her, and closed his arms tighter around her. He buried his face in her hair. Lavenders. He liked that smell. "Oh, Christine, what a wonder you are," he breathed into her hair, then rested his head back against the wall again. Closing his eyes, he too, drifted into a pleasent sleep.

Christine walked home that morning, still smiling at the glorious evening she had the night before. Both had awaken to the sounds of the morning crew making ready for the night ahead. She thanked Erik again for the night and apologized for falling asleep. He walked her to the alley and both said good-bye. She dreamly climbed the stairs to her apartment and dug for the keys in her bag.

"Christine," she turned to see her friend Colette, peeking out her door.

"Oh, good morning, Colette."

"Good morning," Colette smiled admiringly, "somebody has a secret admirer."

"What?"

Colette pointed to the floor. Christine followed her finger and saw a folded note on the floor. She picked it up and looked at it nervously. "Well? Are you going to tell me about him? Honestly, if everyone could look like you, Christine, we wouldn't have to try so hard." Colette teased.

"Thank you, but you are beautiful, Colette," Christine looked at the note hestitantly, "Um, I think I'll read it and tell you about it later."

"Do not leave anything out," with that, Colette waved good day and shut her door.

Christine closed the door behind her and sat down at the table, the note in front of her.


	20. Chapter 20 : Let the Games Begin

**Chapter 20 : Let the Games Begin**

She was relieved it was from Phillipe, but was not thrilled with what he had to say.

Christine,

By the time you read this, it will be the day I will be calling on you this afternoon. I would be so delighted if I could escort you to the fair. It has promised to be an exciting one, and I want to share it with you.

Sincerely,

Phillipe

Christine huffed, "The fair. Really?" Compared to the beautiful opera the night before, the fair did not even seem to come close. It had too many sad memories to be fun. As spectacular as watching the trapeze artists and magicians were, there was still the thought of Erik displayed as a freak. But there was no way she was going to get out of going. He practically confirmed her going for her. If only he would think to ask a lady instead of telling her.

Early afternoon, there was a knock on her door. "Come in, Phillipe." Christine half moaned as she was putting on her coat.

Phillipe opened the door part way and looked in questionably, "How did you know it was me?"

"Oh, just a shot in the dark," Christine plastered a smile on her face.

"Well, shall we go? The airealists should prove exciting," Phillipe boasted as they walked down the stairs of her apartment and into his carriage.

"I cannot wait," Christine lied with a small smile. She remained quiet and just listened to Phillipe talk.

It was a little thrilling to see the soaring artists fly through the air, Christine had to admit, but she would have perfered the opera. There is just something about the scenery, the costumes, the singers, and the dancers that Christine loved.

During the show Phillipe turned to her and asked sincerely, "How have you been Christine?"

"I have been well, thank you for asking."

They talked a little, as the show continued and after the show Christine applauded excitedly. "They were wonderful."

They walked by the different vendors and watched the magicians, singers, and musicians perform for their adored audience.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry. Come and see the freak of nature!" A man announced in front of a tent. "He's hidious, he's ugly, he's nothing you've seen before. Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

Christine swelled with anger as she imagined the show in her head. Angry tears filled her eyes and she quickly wiped them away. "Phillipe, can we please leave. I am tired."

"Oh come on, the show sounds exciting. A _freak_ of nature. The poor devil--"

"Stop it! Just please take me home. I have seen enough for today."

Phillipe stared at her for a moment, but what broke his stare the was glare she shot back at him. She had met his intimidating stare and he backed down. "All right. We can go."

They walked through the maze of shows and tents. "What bothered you so much, Christine? Was it that freak?"

"No, if you must know, which I know you must, it was that man imprisoned in a cage and put on display. It is not right."

"It is just a show." Phillipe laughed.

"Beating someone and throwing him to the crowd is not a show. It is abuse, and eventually murder," Christine snapped back at him. Christine remembered all too well the _show_ that Erik performed. Tears were swelling in her eyes and she was wiping them as quickly as possible. They travelled back to her home in his carriage.

"I am sorry. I guess the fair was not a good idea. I did not want it to upset you. I should have taken you to the opera, but Gerard said you had already seen it."

"Yes, it was marvelous."

"Whom did you see it with. I would have been more than obliged to escort you."

"Oh, I just went by myself."

"By yourself. That sounds lonely. Why did you not tell me, I would have taken you."

"I do not need someone at my heels every minute of the day, Phillipe." Christine snapped.

Phillipe took in an angry breath. The truth just occurred to him. "You saw it by yourself?" He growled.

Christine sensed his anger, "Yes. I saw it by myself."

"Are you sure there was no masked freak sitting next to you? Dreaming that he was like everybody else, when all he is is just a distorted freak."

Christine began to breathe rapidly with anger, "Stop the carriage!" She yelled. The carriage slowed down on the side of the road, then came to a stop. Christine opened the door and bolted out. She slammed the door behind her. "The only masked freak ever sitting next to me was the one in that carriage. I would appreciate it if you did not call on me, Phillipe. Just leave me alone," with that, Christine walked down the side walk in a fast pace.

"Drive on," Phillipe ordered after a few seconds of angry silence. "So be it. Let the games begin, my fine disfigured friend. Let the games begin."

"Christine! This is a pleasent surprise--"

"Hello, Gerard."

Gerard shut the door behind her, a little concerned, "Is everything all right?"

"No, Gerard, it is not. Phillipe has done many things in the past, but I have learned to looked past his faults and see the good in him. Today I learned that there is no good in him, or it's lost or something--I don't know!" Christine let out an angry huff.

"What did he do to make you so angry? He did not do anything ungentlemanly."

Christine sat down on the couch, "No, he knows that I went to the opera with Erik. Well, it all started at the fair. It did seem to be a promising day, but everything that was remotely delightful, vanished when he wanted us to see the Freak Show," there was a pause as Christine fought back tears, "I could not bare going in and watching such torcher, but he was insistant. I think he knew why I would not go in and he used it against me." There was another pause, "Then in the carriage, he almost said Erik by name and insulted Erik. I could not bare anymore. So, here I am," Christine let out a small laugh, "I made him stop the carriage and got out myself."

Gerard chuckled, "Well, I guess you showed him."

"I only hope he does not do anything drastic. We both left quite hostile."

"I do not think he will do anything. That would not be his style," Gerard changed to a more lighter subject, "Would you care for some tea? After that I could take you home, if you like."

"Yes, that would be nice."

As they had their tea, they talked of the opera she had seen, and she explained her imaginations and opinions of the show. An hour past as both talked wondered off onto different topics, then Gerard brought the subject to Erik, "Look at the time. It has just flown by. Oh, Christine, I almost forgot. Erik would like you to visit him this evening if you could."

"Of course. Did he say why?"

Gerard shook his head and tried to make his lie sound real, "No."

They finished their tea, "Thank you, Gerard. I feel much better. You always seem to know how to lighten a girls mood."

"You're quite welcome."

"Good-day."

"Good-day." He watched her walk in the direction of the opera house, then shut the cold air out. "Oh Erik. You are going to have a hard time with that one," he sighed to himself.


	21. Chapter 21 : The Lessons Begin

_Me : I hope you all are enjoying this...somewhat...it was a lot of background, but now it's going to get to the really good stuff and the whole point of this story...bare with me...I am still working on some of the later chapters...so it may take a while but I will update as quick as I can! _

_Thanks!_

**Chapter 21: The Lessons Begin**

Christine found her way down to a dark room underneath the Opera. _I wonder what he wanted to see me about?_ She thought. "Hello? Erik?" She called, but there was no response. In the lonely room Christine stood blindly. All that was heard was the repeated drip of water and tiny scurring of rats looking for food. "Erik." Christine called again, becoming a little uneasy in the dark. She was startled by a small candle that suddenly lit in the corner of the room. The only problem was that there was no one there. Christine was not frightened she knew this was one of his tricks.

Suddenly a soft melodic scale echoed in the room. It was familiar. It repeated and repeated, and Christine thought hard, "_I know I have I heard that before?There are words to it, do...re," _Christine thought hard as the melody replayed over and over. "_Do...re..mie...fa...sol...fa...re...fa...mie, do...re...mie..._

_fa..sol...fa...re...mie...do." _A faint smile of satisfaction appeared on her lips as she proudly remembered the scale. Her favorite scale to sing. "_Sing! Is why he brought me here? To teach me to sing!" _Any good moods were gone, "Erik," she called, "I am in no mood to play with the impossible. Please, do not do what I think you are trying to do."

The music stopped and she was answered by silence. The candle blew out and left Christine in the dark again. "Erik," she said in a serious tone. This was not like him to do this. Usually whenever she called he would answer.

A sudden touch ran up her spine which made her jump and she whirled about, but found no one there. A gasp escaped her lips as she felt a bare cold hand, wrap around her neck seeming to release any tention in her throat. Then as the hand cupped her chin she heard in her ear, "Christine," so faint it seemed to float through the black room.

Christine couldn't move. She opened her eyes to try and see but all that met her eyes was the eerie, cold darkness.

A cold hand embraced her knotted hands and firmly grabbed one to hold on to, "You will sing for me," he whispered.

Christine tried and pry her hand out from his, but was startled by his glowing eyes. Like seeing a cat in the night. Regaining her determination she attempted to pry her hand from his again but he was too strong, "Erik, let me go. I cannot sing, you know that, I know that, why can you not accept that?"

"I will not deny it," he led her to a door.

"I cannot sing. I have tried. It is long passed hope."

"You will sing again," she heard him say.

"Erik, the doctor says I cannot sing."

His golden eyes whipped around and came close to hers. She was taken back by the abruptness, "His exact words were that it is 'likely' that you will never be able to sing again. I plan work around that," he opened the door.

"Erik I have tried to sing before. It was aweful. It was even worse than La Carlotta's," she heard a short, deep laugh from Erik.

"You _will _sing, Christine Daee, even if it kills me. Paris needs to hear your voice again."

"What makes you think this will work? Maybe I do not want to sing anymore."

"Ah, that is where you are wrong. I have seen it in your eyes, a flaming spark that shines with the hope, the hope that you could sing again. You have longed for your voice. Your voice is who you are Christine, it is why you were put on this earth; to sing. I can help bring you there. Therefore," he led her into another room that was just as dark as the first. "You will sing again," he let go of her hand which indicated for her to stop as he walked on . The click of his boots on the ground seemed close which gave Christine conclusion that it was a small room.

Light suddenly flooded the walls as Erik lit a candleabera which seemed to be sitting on a table. Erik looked up at her from above the flames. The light danced on his mask as he nodded for her to come closer. He looked rather dashing with the flames reflecting on the mask and his white shirt.

He sat down and pulled back a wooden covering. Christine now knew this was a piano.

Knowing this was not going to work, Christine was about to protest, but instead of arguing, she let him go on with this dream he had. She knew the truth, her voice was lost. She would never be able to sing again. Christine was startled by his remark that broke the silence. It was like he read her mind. "You have _not_ lost your voice. It is there, we just have to rekindle it, set it aflame. I will give it its technic and depth, and then you will be the one to set it free. It will take some time but I believe with all my heart you will sing again."

By now Christine stared blankly at Erik with shock. He had not talked like that in a long time. It was nice to hear it again. "All right, we begin, repeat after me singing on the syllable 'la'."

Christine took her same position and listened to the same words he spoke the very first lesson she had with him. He pricked the piano keys as he sang through a series of _la's_, the same he had sung their first lesson. "Now you," he ordered short and quick.

She breathed and open her mouth. Nothing came out. Her lip quivered and her eyes became blurry as she turned in fear to her Maestro. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Christine, you must be willing to take the risk of your voice cracking or sounding raspy. It is the beginning. Performers are never perfect. Believe me, living down here my whole life and listening to them reherse, I know. Now, let's try it again, you sing on the syllable _la._"

She breathed and opened her mouth again, still nothing came out. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks and she quickly whiped them away. "Christine," he said, commanding her to stop crying. But he felt compassion, stood up, and handed her a handkerchief, "Listen, close your eyes," he said, then placed boths her hands on her diaphram, "now, breath down low, " he waited for Christine to be ready. Hitting an A, he then put his hand on top of her and the other on the middle of her back. "Now, breathe," he pressed her diaphram in as she breathed and opened her mouth. She hit the note, but it did not have her usual ring or angellic vabritto. It was dull, raspy, and untrained. Christine opened her eyes, and looked at Erik for an answer.

"Wonderful. It's a start. Now, if you would sing a middle C for me," he pricked the key for her to hear the tune and she sang it. While trying to hold the note, her voice cracked and she covered her mouth. A small smile appeared on Erik's face. "Finally, thank you."

Christine let out a small laugh.


	22. Chapter 22 : Birthdays!

**So I apologize for the delay! Ha ha! I got so busy....what else? Anyhoo...I thought that this story needed a little fun, so this chapter hopefully will make you smile at their relationship.....which is beginning to form....hope you enjoy!**

**Also...thank you for your corrections....I made the correction about Christine and her 'operation' in chapter 10. I will look through the rest of the chapters to fix the inconsistancy(hope that is spelled right)! again thank you for your helpful reviews!**

* * *

**Chapter 22: Birthdays!**

Everything was dark. Not a single candle was lit in the entire opera. No one inhabited the opera except two people, and the only clue of knowing they were there was the faint angelic voice of Christine's. It echoed in every hallway and every room in the opera. Her voice had progressed imensly over the last month and a half. It had been hard, demanding, and tiring for both. Christine worked during the day and at night worked on notes and music theory. A lot of tears were shed from Christine as Erik would begin to loose his temper, but soon he would apologize and calm down. Every once in a while both would burst into an argument, and after retreating from each other in anger, they would come back and apologize.

Now, less tears were shed and less arguments were exclaimed. She was progressing beautifully. In the music room, she was singing and Erik was playing the piano. The song climbed up the scale and so did Christine's voice, but she stopped and cleared her throat, "I'm not comfortable with the upper register yet."

"But you will be, you are doing so well, and soon you will be singing on that grand stage again, under all those lights, where you should be."

The corner of her mouth twitched uneasily, "I don't know," her fingers fidgitted uncomfortably, "maybe, someday."

Erik could see her discomfort on the matter and did not wish to press it; so he ran his hand over the smooth, ivory keys, waiting to see if she would continue.

"The key changes from low to high are straining my voice. It will be a while before I can fulfill that dream."

"Do you feel any irritation in your throat?"

"No, I haven't. When we first begun I did."

Erik nodded, "Please do not hesitate to tell me if it begins again. If we do not take proper measures when it comes, it would only make you miserable."

"I just have trouble hitting the high notes, from 'D'."

Erik looked up at her, "Do you perchance know the cantata _Jesus Bliebet Meine Freude_ by Johann Sebastian Bach? It would help you with those changes."

Christine nodded, "Yes, I do not know it entirely,but well enough. It's been awhile since I've listened to his work."

"Well, you will learn it soon enough. Improvise it with the syllabol '_ah,_'" he smiled and played a simple chord as Christine listened to it, preparing for the first note.

"Would you sing it with me?" She asked quietly. There was a heavy silence.

Erik played a few chords and shook his head, "It is not me who needs practice right now."

"You do not have to practice. Please, I have not heard you sing for so long. I barely remember what your voice sounds like, and it's so lovely."

"I have sung a few scales."

"That is not the same," Christine replied.

Erik shook his head, "Some other time. Now," he played the introduction of the piece. She opened her mouth and sang. It was beautiful. Both the music and her singing. She had improved over the past month and a half, still not her best but a lot better than what she used to be. As the music cresendoed to it's fullest, so did Christine. Several times she hit a wrong note but quickly got back on track. Erik closed his eyes, lost into her voice once again.

The song finished, "That felt much better," Christine nodded.

"It sounded better. That will be all for today. You may go if you like."

"Thank you," Christine smiled, then wrapped her shaul over her shoulders.

"I will show you out," Erik stood and opened the door for her. They walked down the long passage ways in silence.

Christine finally broke it, "What do you do during the time I am not with you?"

"The past few weeks I remade my home, then I am composing a few pieces."

"Oh really? I would love to hear them when they are finished."

"Well, I am saving them for--" he stopped.

"Saving them for what?"

Erik chided himself for giving it away, "I was saving them for your birthday."

"My birthday is not for a month."

"I know. That is why I am working on them now so they will be perfect. They were my gift to you. Now, it won't be a surprise."

Christine took his arm, "It is still a lovely thought. Thank you. Besides, you can still play them for me on my birthday and I will be surprised. I have not heard them."

Erik muttered in disappointment.

It suddenly occured to Christine, "While we are on the subject, when is your birthday?"

"My birthday? I do not know. I never really cared."

"I seriously doubt that," Christine shook her head, "Come on," she poked him playfully, "I know you know."

Erik laughed, "All right, it is next week. The 9th."

"Really? How old will you be?"

"Only if you tell me how old you will be," Erik replied with a grin.

"Hmmmm." Christine huffed, "I do not think so. Why did you not tell me sooner that it was your birthday? I would have thrown you a party."

"A party? How could you do that? Who would be there? Forget it Christine, that is a lovely thought."

The wheels in Christine's head started to turn, "There might be a way."

"What?"

They arrived at the door where Christine would leave. "Gerard should be waiting for you outside. Goodnight, Christine."

"You mean, good morning." They said goodbye and Christine left with saying, "You might start expecting something for your birthday."

***************

Christine's mind spun wildly as she thought of what to do for Erik's birthday. It had to be a surprise and something special.

"Gerard, how old will Erik be?" She asked after he escorted her home.

"What?"

"His birthday is next week."

"I'm surprised he told you. He does not like to think about it."

"Gerard, how old will he be?"

"I think he will be thirty two. My goodness, how time has flown by," Gerard exclaimed, "That makes me an old man."

"Oh, you're just as charming and dashing as any young gentlemen in Paris," Christine smiled then kissed him on the cheek, "Thirty two, hmmm."

"What are thinking?"

"Will you help me with something?"

"Of course."

Christine looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes, "Can you help me arrange a surprise party for him?"

Gerard laughed in disbelief, "What?! A party? Oh, Christine the way your mind works--" he stopped and thought about it, "Come to think of it, I would like to see my son celebrate his birthday. But how would we go about celebrating it?"

"I was thinking of having a dinner here at my apartment. I'd make dinner and a cake! Then we'll have presents and he'll be totally surprised."

"You can count on him being surprised. That is a lovely thought, Christine, I want to thank you for the love you give my son. You do not know how happy it makes me to see him happy."

Christine beamed a smile, then both said farewell.

*******************

The week went by quickly as Christine made herself busy with cleaning her apartment, decorating it, planning the food, the cake, and her present. She wanted to give him something real special, something that was intimate, but she couldn't think of the right thing.

Gerard had bought his present, well, presents. He out did himself. This was the first time he was buying presents for his son and he was very giddy. Gerard told Jean-Claude about the party and Christine happily made room for one more at the table.

The night arrived. All three were so exicted they were ready to bust.

Erik received a note saying to come to Christine's apartment at nine o'clock and that it was urgent. He obeyed and found the apartment empty. He looked around cautiously. "Christine?"

Instantly all three jumped out of hiding, "Surprise!" All three exclaimed which took Erik by surprise. Erik loked around the room and saw it decorated.

"Happy Birthday!" They chimed as they approached him happily.

"I have accomplished something," Christine gloated, "He is speechless."

Erik laughed, "My birthday. I completely forgot. You did not have to do anything--"

Christine shook her finger, "Do not even start. This is your birthday and we are going to celebrate--" She took him by the hand, "with having dinner and a cake," she pointed to the cake on the stove top.

"Let's eat!" Jean-Claude exclaimed.

Erik held Christine's chair for her then sat down. "This is a little different," he said, "I'm used to eating at a table in a well lit room."

"That is a problem that should be fixed," Christine said. They started eating and all three talked wildly about the decorations, their preparations, and the passed few days. Erik listened quietly and pleasantly as he slowly ate.

After dinner, Christine pulled out the presents which were in hiding. This took Erik by complete surprise.

"This was not necessary," he protested which was quickly shushed by Christine. The presents were placed in front of him, "Which one should I open first?"

"This one," Gerard touched a small box with a bow on it.

Erik smiled and opened the bow. He gasped at the new gold pocket watch with a watch fob attached to it sitting in the box. "This is beautiful," he picked it up carefully.

"Open it," Gerard beamed a smile.

Erik obeyed and gasped again at his initials which were engraved into the watch. He bought books. "I do not know what to say," Erik exclaimed, "This is too beautiful."

They hurried him along on his presents. Gerard had several books which Erik had mentioned he wanted. Jean-Claude had bought expensive blank sheet music for Erik's composing. And when he opened a small box which Christine said was hers, there was only a small note and a little gold heart link. He looked at her puzzled.

"Read the note," she said.

He unfolded the note and read it quietly:

Dear Erik,

I am sure you are confused on this present. I wanted to give you something special, but I could not think of something to give you that would express my thanks to you for all the wonderful memories we have had together. There is not enough words to explain how much you mean to me and how much I am grateful to have you in my life. So along with this letter there is a little heart link. May it be a symbol of my own heart, which I give to you.

Your Christine

Erik stared at the note. His eyes were glazed as he looked up at Christine. A pleasant smile appeared on his lips.

"I bet it was something mushy," Jean-Claude teased playfully.

"Save the mushy stuff until after we have cake," Gerard also teased as he retrieved the cake and a knife.

Erik put the note back in its box along with the gold heart, then said to them, "I appreciate this evening and you three. You are the best friends anyone could ever ask for. I thank you. Now, may I do the honors of cutting the cake?"

Gerard handed Erik the knife and bowed melodramatically. Erik cut the cake and handed Christine the first piece.

"The birthday boy gets the first piece," she protested.

"As the birthday boy I say who gets the first piece and I want you to have it, and I do not want hear any arguments," he smiled and she took it obediantly.

The night went by quickly and was full of laughter. Jean-Claude and Gerard did most of talking. They talked of their pasts and the funny situations they found themselves in when they were young. The conversation progressed back to the present when they realized how late it was. Althought they did not want to say good night, Jean-Claude and Gerard bid farewell and left Christine and Erik.

"Judging from the debris, I would say this was a great party," Christine said as she looked at the dirty dishes and wrapping paper on floor.

"Let me help you," Erik said as he went over to the table to start stacking the dishes.

"Oh no, this was your night, you do not have to clean up."

Erik looked at her with a smile, "I want to help. It is the least I can do to repay you for this lovely evening."

"Erik you do not have to repay me for this evening, I wanted to do it." She started cleaning the dishes and he dried them.

"Christine, this was the best night I have ever had. And I will never forget it," he said after they had finished.

"Well, good, I am glad."

Erik took her hand in his and looked deeply into her eyes, "Did you mean, what you said in your letter?"

"I would not have written it if I did not mean it. Erik, I cannot begin to tell you how much you mean to me."

He shook his head, "I do not deserve your heart, Christine. I am a monster."

"You are nothing of the sort."

"I wish I could believe that you care for me as much as I care for you."

"Then believe it. I do care deeply for you, Erik."

He looked away, "Do you care enough to look at the face of a monster?" Christine was taken back, she did not answer, "That answers my question."

Christine grabbed the front of his shirt, "Erik, I have seen your face, and I hate myself for running away when I did two years ago--"

"That was not your fault."

"Yes it was. I promised you my love, but when I saw your face, I ran like a frightened child and broke that promise. I regret my actions everyday. But I think I have grown since then. I promise that I will not run away ever again. Erik, I promise that you have my love," she reached up slowly to his mask, but he drew back.

"I am not ready for you to look at me. There is some part in me that does not believe that you will stay, and I shouldn't think that, but I do. You are just too beautiful. How could someone like you, love someone like me?"

Christine reached up with both hands and placed them on either side of his mask, not letting him escape. She pulled his face down so he was looking at her. "I do not ever want to hear you say that you are not beautiful. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met."

He closed his eyes to block the tears from falling and rested his head on Christine's.

Then he whispered so quietly, "Thank you. Thank you for your gift."

"You are welcome."


	23. Chapter 23 : Her Voice is Heard

**Here's another chapter....it's kinda short but it is starting to lead up to the problem that arises....haha....hope you enjoy it and thanks for the reviews! I will fix my errors....**

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**Chapter 23 : Her Voice is Heard**

A few days had passed since the birthday party, and Gerard and Jean-Claude had noticed a difference in Christine and Erik. The air about them seemed easy and gentle. Jean-Claude thought exactly what was happening.

"I think they are falling in love," he said to Gerard.

Gerard smiled, but problems arose in his mind. What about the Count? What about his son's face? Christine was becoming popular in the plaza, people wouldn't except Christine in love with the Phantom of the Opera, although the Phantom of the Opera had not appeared in over two years. He was presumed dead. But it would not take long for the citizens of Paris to figure out who he was. What were they going to do? How could such a Beauty and the Beast survive in Paris, France?

In the music, Christine and Erik were finishing a lesson.

"You did very well, Christine. I am pleased," with a smile he lifted his eyes to hers and she could see them sparkle at his approval. "You are dimissed."

Christine curtsied and with a short bow of her head turned to leave. She looked back over her shoulder and saw him still sitting at the piano. Stopping, she faced him, "Are you going to stay?" She asked.

Erik nodded, "Yes, I have some chords I want to play and possibly write down."

"On your new sheet music?" Christine giggled. "May I stay and listen?"

"Surely you have other activities more entertaining than listening to me bang on the keys."

Christine walked towards him, "No, actually I do not have any plans. I would love to stay and here your music," Erik looked up with a pleasant smile, and after a moment consented, then turned his focused back to the piano. With a dreamy eyed expression, Christine lazily turned to the stuffed chair and endtable that was nearby. He closed his eyes and played several different chords, scales and notes that might be pieced together. Christine was intrigued as he made music. As he played beautiful melodies he would stop and change it. Christine wondered why he didn't approve of the first melody. _I guess that's just how composers are. _She thought everything he played was beautiful.

She closed her eyes at the mystic and melodic music. The thought of her father crossed her mind. She smiled as she rememberd the memories of him playing the fiddle as she music was just as mystic and melodic. People were sitting around a fire listening to the small Christine sing along with her father's fiddle. Those were wonderful times, happy times. Everyone was bundled up in the chilly night, drinking hot cider or tea and watched as the old man walked around the fire playing a beautiful melody.

Her thoughts vanished suddenly as Erik banged a clashing chord on the piano. Christine knew it was just mild frustration and decided did not pay attention to it. Instead in the corner of her eyes she saw a newspaper, folded neatly on the small wooden endtable. Picking it up she unfolded the pages and on the front page was the headline:

THE TWENTITH ANNIVERSERY OF THE PARIS OPERA HOUSE!

MASQUERADE BALL IN CELEBRATION, on the 16th of November

_That was this Friday and today is Monday. _Not wishing to disturb Erik, Christine slowly stood up, curtsied in respect, and left quietly. Closing the door, she exhaled deeply, leaning against the door. She knew that if she had disturbed him he would have been quite angry. "I must find Gerard," she whispered.

Finding her way up through the mazes, Christine stopped when she approached the wall that led to the foyer of the Opera House. Peeking through the peep hole to make sure know one was around, she pressed the button and the wall opened just enough for her to squeeze through and closed after she was on the other side.

Suddenly she jumped and gasped when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Wheeling around her eyes met that of the familiar elder man, "Oh Gerard! you startled me," She placed a hand on her sternum relieved that it wasn't someone else.

"My apologies. I was getting ready to come down and get you. I am quite concerned. While you have spent most of your time with Erik, I have been getting complaints from Phillipe. He has been wondering where you are, and is quite angry that you have not been spending your usual eighteen hours a day with him." Gerard, although concerned, had a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"I am sorry. I will speak to him later," she sighed wearily.

Gerard raised an eye brow, "He has been working you hard?"

Christine nodded, "Yes, but I do not mind."

Gerard saw the newpaper in her hand, "What is that?"

"This mornings newspaper. I found it in the music room." She unfolded it and showed him the front page, "Did you know about the Masquerade ball on Friday?"

"Ah, yes. It is the talk of Paris. I am surprised you did not know about it." He gestured to the dark foyer which was in the process of being decorated. "It is to be quite big, I hear. Dancing, music."

"Will you go?" Christine asked.

Gerard thought, "Maybe, I don't exactly know what to wear. I suppose you are going? Phillipe will probably escort you in something astounding."

Christine laughed unpleasantly, "Yes I imagine so."

"Well, shall I excort you home?"

"Actually I was wondering if I may I see the stage? It has been a long time since I have seen it," several weeks ago when she had a guided tour of the Opera House with Phillipe, he did not take her to the stage because they were working on the new opera that she listened to with Erik.

"Not at all. I would be happy to see you to the stage."

"Thank you," she followed Gerard to the stage. It was quiet and dark. "It's kind of spooky in the middle of the night."

"Yes, it is."

Christine, dumb-founded, walked slowly onto the stage. She had forgotten how glorious and magnificent it was. Her boots echoed as they touched the hollow stage. Looking out into the massive rows of seats she caught her breath and felt her heart begin to race. She remembered the humiliating night of her debut. The ballet girls dancing in their elivish costumes and the tenor waiting for her to begin her song.

"Christine," her thoughts were interupted by Gerard.

"Yes?"

"Since I am here, I was going to take the opporatunity to speak to Erik about something. Do you mind waiting for a moment?"

Christine beamed a smile, "Of course not. Go ahead. I won't leave hear."

Gerard repeated his 'back in a few minutes', then disappeared.

Christine stood there, alone still looking out into the seats. Such splender, her heart raced again and she spinned about the stage with a childish laugh. She stopped when her eyes caught box five. She remembered from long ago the rumor that Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, would sit there and watch the opera's. She squinted her eyes to see if he was in it, it was empty.

Looking about, Christine quietly hummed a melody that she had been practicing in her previous lesson. She was a little unsure, but took the opporatunity and began to sing louder. A familiar melody came to her mind...

_All my life, I've been waiting. In my mind in a rocking chair, for my fancy _

_to take the air, I would know the time. Tick and tock went my childhood, _

_father said I would know the place, skin would tingle and pulse would race _

_as they do..._

Christine lost herself in her music and began with full confidence, whirling and dancing around the stage.

_It's here, I'm home! Where music fills the air, and I'm home where a _

_thousand lovers cry, swoon and sigh, and I'm home, where every violin _

_plays a treat as sweet as a honeycom, and if I'm singing then I know, I'm _

_home...._

On and on she went being swept away with the magic of the stage, the presence of the seats and balcony and the tremendous chandolier. Then finally at the top of her lungs, she sang the last phrase of the song....

_And if I sing with all my heart, I'll be home!!!!!_

She ended with silence. No hands clapped, no cheering roared, it was just as Christine expected and wanted it to be. She stood looking out into the seats, trying to calm her rapid breathing. Looking about again, Christine giggled with embarrassment. In a few moments, Gerard joined her on the stage and they left.

She never knew that there was someone who did hear her. Someone hiding in the shadows, watching her every move, stund by her magnificent voice and performance. Slowly and quietly the unknown person vanished with no trace, knowing Christine's secret. The silent person now knew that the woman's voice had returned to her again and Christine didn't know that her voice had been revealed.


	24. Chapter 24 : A Wise Choice

**_The best is coming soon....and much more...do not worry...haha...it still has a while to go....and the danger and scariness is coming around the corner! _**

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**Chapter 24: The Wise Choice**

Christine was woken the next morning by a repeated knock on her door. After several knocks and Christine rolling out of bed she slowly walked toward the door, "I am coming. Who is it?"

"It is I, Phillipe." A muffled voice answered.

Christine threw her head back. She had not seen him in so long, that she had almost forgotten about him. "Oh, Phillipe, I am not decent. Can we meet another time?"

There was a pause, then he replied, "Sure, I will come back in two hours, with you decent or not," he teased in his annoying tone. "Until later, my Sweet."

Christine shook her head as she heard him descend down the stairs. "Two hours, indeed," she huffed as she went to wash her hair. The sound of Phillipe's voice brought on so many memories to her mind. Memories that weren't so pleasant. Like the notes, the threatening notes. The notes has ceased to come, which relieved her. But there was the memory of Phillipe's constant presence. His powerful, jealous feelings for her that sometimes scared her. She wished that the Phillipe she knew two years ago would come back. She loved that Phillipe. The kind, gentle man. The sweet, caring someone who she turned to in time of need, and found he was always there. Now, he's always there whether needed or not.

As she finished making herself presentable, she concluded that Phillipe brought uncomfortableness, uneasiness. A warning feeling to be cautious. Cautious of what? Of Erik? Of his whereabouts? Of her love for him? Of herself?

She realized the restlessness she felt when she was with Phillipe. Like she could not tell him everything that was on her heart like she use to. When she tried to talk, she would be interrupted by his pompous tales of his passed.

But with Erik. Oh, sweet, caring Erik. Someone who would listen to everything she said and more some and really care for what she said. She could tell him anything, sad, happy, it was told and was promised to be kept in confidence. That was one of the reasons why she grew to love him.

She was startled when the knock on the door signaled that the two hours had passed. That was fast. Christine unlocked and opened the door to see Phillipe's smiling face.

"Phillipe, how good to see you. I'm sorry that we haven't seen each other much--"

"Nonsense, it is all in the past," Phillipe took off his top hat and walked right in. "But it is the reason for my journey here," he stopped in the middle of the room.

Christine shut the door, "What reason is that, Phillipe?"

"First, how are you?"

"I am very well."

"That's nice. I have been pretty busy. Hunting, business with the winery, I shot many deer."

"Good for you," she tried to sound interested.

"What have you been doing that has been taking up your precious time?" He stared at her stead-fastly, his mood changed to serious.

Christine plastered a fake grin, "My music! People in the market place have been just begging for my songs, it's the most I've ever seen."

"Ah," Phillipe smiled after a moment of silence, "I am glad to see that business if going so well for you," he tried to make it sound pleasing, he knew that was a lame excuse. "Well, now that that is settled, I have a proposal to make."

Christine became questionable, not knowing where this was going, "A proposal?"

"Yes," he walked closer to her, "I trust you have heard of the big anniversery ball this Friday?"

"Yes," she sighed with a little relief.

"Well, I have it all planned out that you and I will go together. It will be spectacular! You will be absolutely stunning, as always, and I will look dashing escorting you."

Christine was slightly relieved, "Oh, well that is very kind of you Phillipe, but–"

"I will buy you the most beautiful, most expensive gown to wear! Just like you were at the Bistro, you were astounding and you will be more astounding with what I buy you. We will go shopping the day after tomorrow!" Phillipe headed for the door.

"Phillipe! I hadn't made it finale that I was going, I do not know if I have plans that night."

Phillipe turned back to her with an insulted look, "Of course you have plans, you are going to the ball and you will be a hit! Good day, Christine." He rushed out and shut the door after him.

Christine was about to scream in anger, but instead bit her lip, stomped her foot and let out a series of, "oooh's!" in frustration. It was determind that she was going to the ball.

The day after the next, Phillipe showed up at her door early in the morning and they went shopping in all the expert fashion shops. All day they shopped, none seemed to attract Christine's or Phillipe's attention. Many had been sold for the other ladies and gentleman who were going to the ball. Their last shop was a small one, not very fancy, Phillipe almost passed it up but Christine insisted they go in and give it a try, "Fine, if you wish to stay in the carriage that's fine, I can go in myself," Christine headed out of the carriage.

"No no, I'll come along, but I am certain we won't find anything here," he followed her out and they went in.

An old man and woman greeted them graciously and Christine returned the greeting, but Phillipe stood erect and silent. Christine just ignored his pompous behavior and asked if they had anything they could offer. They showed several beautiful dresses but none that were satisfactory to Phillipe. "I told you there was nothing here."

"One moment Mademoiselle," the old woman said, "I think I know what you and the Monisuer are looking for," she ran to the back of the shop, disappearing from sight. After a few moments of listening to the old man ramble on about his grown children, Christine listening with interest, Phillipe looking around the shop in disgust, the woman came back with a large box. Setting it on the counter the woman jestured for Christine to come closer and she opened the box.

Christine gasped, it was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. The detail and design was so expertly done that it took her breath away. The woman carely lifted it out of the box and it unfolded to the floor. The top was a corset type with beads of all different colors sewn on. It went out into a full bottom that reached the floor. There were no sleeves, but matching long, silk gloves to take away the bareness on top. A white mask with diamonds outlined the mask and eye slits.

Phillipe seemed to like it and asked who the designer was, "I made it," the woman said, "Long ago for my daughter to wear when she became a grand lady." The woman's smile vanished, "but our daughter died when she was thirteen, a strange disease."

"How touching," Phillipe said with complete sarcasm.

"I want you to have it, Mademoiselle." The woman smiled.

Christine gasped, "Oh no I couldn't, I–"

"Please, you are a beautiful woman, just like my daughter was. I remember who you are, Christine Daee."

Christine was surprised, "You know me?"

"That is Mademoiselle Daee." Phillipe corrected.

"Phillipe." Christine backed him off with an evil glint in her eyes.

"I remember you from almost three years ago, you were a girl in the market place, selling songs. I loved to listen to your voice, but then you stopped coming and I heard you were to sing in the Paris Opera. I was over joyed."

"Why thank you Madame, that is very kind of you," Christine smiled, "I would love to wear the dress."

"I also remember something about the Phantom of the Opera, disrupting the performance. Making the chandolier crash, how horrible for you!" The woman placed a concerning hand on Christine's arm.

"Yes we were all worried about her, Madame, that _phantom_ should have died a thousand deaths for risking her life." Phillipe spitted out the word 'phantom'.

Christine cleared her throat, "Well it wasn't all as bad as it seems, Madame. I guess the Phantom of the Opera had other reasons for crashing the chandolier."

"All right, how much do you want for the dress?" Phillipe asked, having enough of the conversation all together.

"It is a gift for you, Mademoiselle. Please–I insist." The woman smiled folding the dress back in the box.

"That is fine, I shall be in the carriage Christine." Phillipe left quickly as Christine waited for the woman to prepare the box.

"I must apologize for his behavior," Christine said to both of them.

"It was not your fault," the woman let out a huff.

"Myrna, be careful," The man warned, he knew that Phillipe was of high callober and that they could get in trouble for insulting someone like him.

"Oh no really, it is all right. Phillipe can be that way sometimes. Thank you so much," the woman tied the box with ribbon.

"Really, he didn't even wait to carry this for you. He's not much of a gentleman," Myrna gruffed.

"Myrna!"

"No," Christine smiled at the steaming old man, "it's all right. I must be going. I can carry it myself. Aduei," the woman handed the box to Christine and she headed for the door. As the old man went to the back of the shop, the old woman caught up with Christine before she exited and whispered for only Christine to hear.

"If it were me, I would have chosen that Phantom of the Opera any day. He seems more romantic and mysterious than that Count."

Christine smiled absent mindedly, "You have no idea," and her smile suddenly vanished at the imformation she had just revealed.

The old woman caught this, "Pardon me?"

She plastered a grin on her face, "Nothing," and before the old woman could question her, Christine hurried out.

The old woman watched as Christine disappeared into the carriage, and after Christine left, the old man came to stand beside his wife, "What did you say to her?"

"Oh nothing," the woman began to walk off, "one thing is for sure, I hope that she makes the wise choice and marries the right man."

"You mean that man she walked in with?"

The old woman smiled childishly, "No, not him."


	25. Chapter 25 : Masquerade Ball

**Chapter 25: Masquerade Ball**

Lessons had been cancelled for the rest of the week because there was too much work being done during the day and night, that she would be heard too easily. Christine was a little glad because she did not quite know how to tell Erik that she was going to the ball with Phillipe. Although Erik was less tempermental when Phillipe's name was spoken, Christine still did not know how to make Erik understand why she was going with the Count.

Friday afternoon Christine and with the help of Collette, put herself together for the evening. The day moved by so fast for Christine, she wished it wasn't evening yet. Collette piled Christine's hair in an intricate design then helped Christine slip into the dress and gloves. Collette gave the white mask to Christine and took a step back to see the overall view.

"That is the most beautiful dress, indeed!" Collette exclaimed.

"But it is cut quite low in the front."

"Oh hush, you look simply devine!" Collette clasped her hands together with a wide smile. "You will be the bell of the ball."

A knock at the door made her feel uneasy because she knew who was on the other side ready to escort her to the ball. "Phillipe," Christine plastered a smile as Collette opened the door.

Phillipe was taken back, "Christine you look absolutely beautiful! No, more than beautiful! May I say that that dress does you justice!

"Thank you, Phillipe," Christine nodded, "Um, Phillipe, this is Collette, a friend."

Phillipe kissed Collette's hand, and Collette giggled at the handsome man in front of her. "It is a pleasure, Mademoiselle," he then turned to Christine, "Shall we go?" Phillipe wore a naval uniform made of blue material with brass buttons on the front. A sword hung at his side with glossy knee high boots. A huge black hat with a white feather sticking out to the side, sat on top of Phillipe's head. A black and white mask covered his face which added that dashing, handsome touch to his attire. He caught Christine off guard, he was quite handsome tonight. Phillipe held out his arm for her to take and led her down and into the carriage.

The streets were busy and noisy with the bustle of the anniversary party. Those who were not at the ball partied in the streets. This was a big event, the Paris Opera House was a big part of everyone's life in Paris and it was to be celebrated with joy, honor and beer.

They approched the front of the opera and Phillipe escorted Christine out of the carriage. The carriage disappeared down the street. Massive amounts of people stood on the stairs outside and the buzz of the talk flooded the air. As Phillipe and Christine climbed the stairs they were eyed upon, some questionable, some curious, some jeering and some delighted.

They entered to music, dancing, drinking, halloring, laughter, and cheering. It took Christine's breath away at the quantity of people. She felt like an ant trying to work its way through a crowd of people, without getting stepped on. Their names were announced, but was not heard over the loud celebrating.

Phillipe introduced Christine to a lot of aroisocrats, counts, dukes, and lords. All of them eyed Christine with flattering eyes, which made her uncomfortable. She listened politely as Phillipe told jokes and carried on conversations with his friends, but she grew board. She quickly excused herself, then wormed her way to the a clearing, by the table of food. She looked at all the food with awe and was afraid to touch it and mess it up. She was distracted when she heard her name called and left the delicious designs alone.

"Christine?" She turned to see a man in a gold and black striped costume, she squinted her eyes at his face that was hidden and suddenly beamed a smile as she recognized who it was.

"Gerard! You look fabulous!" She took Gerard's hands and examined his attire.

"Christine I have never seen you more beautiful! How are you this fine evening?"

After pulling away from his embrace she said, "It is quite amazing. I've never seen so much celebration. I see you decided to come."

"Yes, well it was last minute, I wasn't even thinking of coming because I couldn't find a costume that appealed to me."

"You look dashing," Christine's eyes were distracted by a dashing, tall man standing at the end of the table. Several young ladies eyed him as they passed by. He was dressed in a fine suit of black. Running down the sides of his pants, were golden, glistening beads and sequences. The lepels and pockets of his jacket were outlined with the same beaded pattern and color. Gold decorative buttons shined down the front of his jacket and set his eyes aglow. He wore a black mask, with gold beads and sequences, yet again, that outline the eye slits and edges. To finish the costume, a large brimmed black hat rested upon his head with a black feather shooting out. The hat was tipped down slightly over his face. It took Christine's breath away at how handsome he was.

Christine turned back to Gerard in disbelief, "How did you ever get Erik to come and in a costume?!"

"It took a lot of arguing. It was hard enough to get him to come let alone wear a costume. I thought it would be a wonderful idea, because here he wouldn't look out of place if he wore a mask. He could see how the other half lives for a change," they both looked over at Erik then back at each other. "I left Erik with a young gentleman his age. The Monsieur is very political and loves to talk about it." Gerard laughed, "I do not think Erik was too happy with me!"

Christine laughed, "Maybe I should rescue him."

"It would certainly give me better odds," Gerard kissed her hand, "have a wonderful time tonight," then he went off to visit with some friends.

Christine watched until she could no longer see Gerard, then looked in the direction of Erik. She giggled, then glided over to him, "There you are!" She said melodramatically, "I have been looking all over for you! It was not easy either, one can never tell when one wears a mask."

Erik looked at Christine and was stunned.

"Well, well," smiled the other man. "You must introduce me to this most beautiful young lady," he bent down and kissed her hand, "I am Pierre DeVyne, and may I say, I am most honored to make your aquaintence."

"Christine Daee," Christine laughed at such charm Pierre was throwing at her.

"Christine Daee," Pierre thought, "Are you not the --"

"Yes. I am afraid I will be known for having the shortest lived debut ever on the stage."

"I was there that night. A terrible thing. The chandolier came so close to hitting me. I, of course, jumped out of the way in the nick of time."

Christine gasped in fake terror at his gloating, "I must say that is most dreadful, Sir, most dreadful indeed."

Pierre turned to Erik, "Were you there that night, Gaston?"

Christine looked up at Erik and almost burst into laughter at his fake name.

Erik shifted his weight and cleared his throat, "Um--I was there. You might say I was closer than you think."

Christine tried hard not to laugh.

Pierre then asked, "And how did you view Mademoiselle Daee's short debut?"

He looked at Pierre, "She could use a little work on her croaking."

Christine burst into laughter, "And how, Sir, do you think I could accomplish what you say?"

Erik was silent for a moment then thought of a way of escape, "If the Mademoiselle would care to dance, I might have a few suggestions."

Christine beamed a smile, "If you will excuse us," she nodded to Pierre, then was led to the dance floor. Erik took her lightly in his arms and they danced to the cheery music. "Gaston!" Christine laughed out loud, and Erik could not help but smile.

"I did not pass as a Gaston?"

"Certainly not. You are just as much as a Gaston as I am a Bernadette."

Erik laughed lightly, "I guess that is true," his eyes softened, "how enchanting you look."

"Thank you, You are most handsome," Erik scoffed but Christine gave a stern look for him not to protest the compliment. "I awefully glad you came. It would not have been the same without your presence."

"Merci," a slight smile appeared on his face then disappeared. "Is it proper for a young lady to leave her _escort_ at a dance?" he almost spit the word 'escort' out, but tried his best not too.

Christine frowned, "I knew you would find out. I could not bring myself to tell you, I am sorry for that. But I know that Phillipe is well occupied by his friends. I'd much rather be with my friends," they danced in silence. Christine did not want the pleasent evening to turn into a nightmare, so she smiled and jested, "I see you are not wearing your cape."

Her mysterious partner smirked, "I find that people with cloaks at balls are much too noticable. I would much rather be unnoticed."

Christine smiled seeing his small grin, "Cape or not, you have been the target of many flirty eyes from several beautiful mademoiselles.

"Well my eyes are only on one Mademoiselle."

Christine's heart fluttered. The heart that beat for him, but he could not bring himself to understand. She knew that it was still hard for him to believe that someone could love him. If there was some way she could make him understand, make him believe that she absolutely loved him. Love him completely, and was only his for ever and ever. Her thoughts were interrupted.

"Excuse moi," a voice said from behind Christine, "my apologies, but may I ask you Monsieur if I could dance with Madeoiselle Daee?" She turned to see Phillipe smile.

Christine's heart almost stopped. The two rival enemies were so close to one another. Hopefully, Phillipe would not recognize this. Christine looked up at Erik, afraid of what she would see. His jaw was clenched, but he was as pleasant as he could be. He knew it was Phillipe. Erik took a breath, then said quietly, "By all means, we just finished," Erik turned to Christine, bowed then disappeared quickly.

Christine plastered a fake smile on her face as Phillipe took her in his arms and whirled her about the dance floor. The uneasiness filled Christine again. The restlessness. Being so close to Phillipe was uncomfortable. She wished that Erik would not have given her up, but it was for the best. She prayed desperately for the waltz to end.

Her wish was granted and she quickly pulled away from Phillipe's nerving touch. Bowing her head shortly, she thanked him for the dance and joined in on the polite ripple of claps for the orchestra.

Instead of another song, an older gentleman came center of the grand staircase. He had a touch of silver in his haselnut hair. A well-trimmed mustache and rosy cheeks to add to his jolly being. He was plump with a gold and rather ridiculous costume piece. Gold knee-high briches and white stockings. Glittering dress shoes with big buckles on the front. He wore a red, green, black and white vest that over lapped his plump waist. An astonishing shiny gold dress coat was worn over top with an enormous collar that consumed his fat neck. Then lastly, his elaborate gold mask, with white feathers framing the top, covered the top half of his face.

"Madame's and Moniser's, Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming this evening, we hope you've enjoyed yourselves in celebrating this joyous event of the twentith anniversary of the Opera House," Monsieur Luv' Monte stopped as a ripple of applause responded to his speech. "Thank you, thank you. Well, this evening I have been informed that a young talented singer has returned to our humble Opera House. She hasn't been here for two years, but now, if she would be so kind as to sing us a song, I imagine we would all be grateful. If you would please welcome Mademoiselle Daee who was escorted by the Count DeChandon."

A heavier aplause cheered as Christine looked up at the manager from the crowd. With wide eyes she looked at Phillipe.

"I told him." He gloated.

"Why?!" She half shouted in terror.

"I over-heard you singing on the stage, it was astounding! How come you did not tell me that you could sing again?!"

"Phillipe, how dare you surprise me like this!"

Phillipe was confused, "I did it for you. You should be heard."

"I do not want to sing!" She protested in a high-pitch voice.

"Please? You will please us all, and don't tell me you cannot sing because I heard you. Sing anything you like, the audience will love you. Go on," he practically pushed her toward the stairs.

She slowly walked up the stairs and bowed nervously to the manager.

"Saints be praised, you are as lovely as a spring flower!" Monsieur Luv 'Monte took her hand when she joined him on the stairs and kissed it.

"Thank you, Monsieur, but I'm afraid I have nothing to sing."

"That's all right. Just pick a song that comes to your mind and sing. The orchestra will back you up," he turned to the audience, "Please welcome, Mademoiselle Christine Daee," he clapped as he walked down the staris, leaving Christine standing there like a nervous statue. Fidgetting with her hands she looked up at the audience.

"I seem to be a little lost for songs."

A ripple of chuckles breezed through the crowd as they watched the young singer trying to figure out a song. All she wanted to do was run down the stairs and pounce on Phillipe. He did not do this for her. He did it for him. It would be him who discovered her, if she would become a big success. _Oh, Erik, I need you!_ her head screamed. Erik, that brought a small ounce of peace to her thundering heart. The heart that belonged to him. She was his, he was her true love. Suddenly her face brightened as she remembered a song. She turned to the awaiting audience. She nodded with a smile, then turned to the conductor and nodded.

Christine turned to face her listeners. Swallowing hard, she breathed in a deep breath, hoping that this song would make Erik realize how much she loved him. That she really loved him. This song, he would remember it well. Very, very well. For it was the song she sang to him the time she asked him to take off his mask, two years ago. Closing her eyes she opened her mouth....

_"My true love, lost in a shadow play I will find a way, through fear and doubt I will find you out, in the secret places you hide about..."_

Opening her eyes, she scanned the crowd desperately searching for the black mask that belonged to Erik. Not finding him, she continued with her song, a little louder and with more confidence, attempting for him to hear it wherever he was...

_"No, my love. More than a fantasy, you must be for me. I'll hear your voice and I'll see your brow, and I'll know your face like your music..."_

The conductor played a soft melody that fit well with the tune. Christine, still searched for Erik, her eyes glanced at Phillipe, his smile beaming, thinking she was singing this song for him, not knowing that it was for someone else.

_"Can you hear me now? Can we make a vow? Ever to be faithful, I will show you how...."_

_There! _In the back of the room, in the shadows of the corner stood a man with a black mask and black attire. All that could be seen was his glowing golden eyes. He was barely visible to the regular eye, but Christine knew to search more carefully if she wanted to find him. Her face brightened as she kept her eyes on him. He was listening to every word, as she continued to sing...

_"...My true love, open and turn to me what no one can see. Your deepest dreams of your darkest nights and your eyes like lights ever burning! I will _

_hear your voice and I'll see your brow, let me know your face let me know it...Now! Now!"_

He remembered her song all too well. He remembered her arms wrapping around his chest from behind, gliding up and down, causing him to lose all strength in his legs and fall helplessly to his knees. One hand lay passionately on his shoulder, entwined in his fingers. The free hand ran through his hair then down his neck. His eyes were shut in a dreamy state. His heart raced, his body grew hot and cold. He breathed heavily at the sound of her voice. Erik felt the same sensational feeling he did two years ago. He stepped forward, holding her eyes with his, grasping every word she sang with perfection. She belted out with all her heart, so that his heart fluttered as she pleaded with him.

_"My true love! Lost in a shadow play, I will find a way, through fear and doubt I will find you out, let me know your face, let me know it...Now! _

With more intensity.

_"Now!"_

Then with all of her heart and soul,

_"Now!!!"_

The song ended with thunderous applause and wild cheering. Christine did not acknowledge the crowd at once. She still held Erik in her sight. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her heart raced. She could see his eyes widen and flicker with a gold flash and his chest rising and falling rapidly. She read the question his eyes were asking, and with a smile she slightly nodded and mouthed the word "Yes", intending for only him to see; but it wasn't hidden too well.

Phillipe looked at Christine with puzzled eyes, _She's not looking at me. Who is she looking at?_ He followed her eyes over the crowd and saw who Christine was looking at. The Phantom. He knew it instantly.

He growled with fury, knowing now that the song was ment for his rival. He had to win her back. He turned back sharply to Christine who now acknowledged the applause by bowing gracefully.

As the manager joined Christine onto the stairs clapping wildly, Phillipe again looked to the back of the room. He's gone! _You can't hide forever, Phantom. I'll find you and when I do, I'll kill you!_

* * *

**_DA DA DA!!!!!!_**


	26. Chapter 26 : Devilish Scheme

**_I will try to promise not to drag this out...it's getting darker and to the climax so it shouldn't be too much longer! stay with me please =)_**

* * *

**Chapter 26: Devilish Scheme**

The night was an eerie, silent one. No breeze softened the black darkness, no sound to erase the uncomfortable silence, and no light shone in a vacant alley except for one lantern hanging outside of a wooden door which was hung on a rundown building. A lone horse and rider quietly made their way down the brick road and stopped when they approached the lantern. The rider let the reins fall to the animals neck and slid smoothly off it's back and to the ground. Looking on either side, the dark rider walked up to the door and tapped softly, three times, on the hard surface, took a step back and waited. After a moment the door opened a crack and an eye peired through at the visitor. Recognizing the rider the door was opened and he was ushered in silently and left the outside world behind as the door was closed and locked.

It was a small room, lit only by one candle that rested on a lopsided table. On either side were long, rough benches. An empty fireplace sat in the far corner of the room, a pile of broken tigs and logs sat on either side, but none to diminish the cold air that seeped into the room. Among other things, the room was cluttered with odd and ends. Gadgets and trinkets laid on chairs, in baskets, and on the floor. No special priviledges were kept for the visitor. The stench of stail ale and hay filled the room, which also was embedded into the plump man who lived there. His wild, filthy beard and grimy hands, assumed him to be an unkept man who worked long and hard.

"Sit down and we can talk business." The big man spoke almost in a hoarse cough from all the drinking he had consumed in his long miserable life. The stranger looked long and hard at the man, this was not what he was used to and certainly not how he did business.

The strangers' eyes rolled up into his head and sighed a dissatisfied sigh. He brought a cloth to his nose to excape from the misery that was in the air. He then walked quietly over to the table and slowly and unssuringly sat down on the bench. The big man joined him on the other side. "What you ask is hard work. The price will be heavy if the job insists on being done accordingly." The man's rough voice spoke quietly to the visitor.

"You will get your money's worth, if that is what you want and I know it is," the employers voice was low and disguised.

"I'm only doing it for the money. I'm a working man. Now when must the task be done?"  
"You have heard of the latest Faust being shown at the grand opera, have you not?"

"Yes, I reckin' I have. I don't know details, as you can see, I'm not the kind of man who goes to those shenanigans. What about it?"

"And I'm sure you have heard of the Mademoiselle Daee?"

The big man's face beamed a fat, wicked grin, "Who hasn't hear of the lady."

"She is to star in this Faust. I want some help in giving a surprise you might say, to the audience. Give it a night no one would ever forget."

"I hadn't heard about the Mademoiselle singing in the Faust. When did this happen?" The big man cocked his head.

"This time next week," there was a long pause as the big man's eyes widened at his guests intentions, "Let's just say, Mademoiselle Du' Stee is going to have a terrible accident and will not be able to continue to star in the opera. Therefore, the manager will be forced to choose M. Daee to replace M. Du' Stee for the lead."

"I will not agree to any murdering." The big man stood up. "To do as you ask is one thing but to be involved in a murder is another and I will not have it like that."

There was another pause in the dark, the stranger did not move from his place, and it intimidated the scruffy man. "All right," the stranger agreed. "Nothing resulting in a death will befall M. Du' Stee." The visitor held out his gloved hand to end the deal. The port man stared at the black leathery hand before him for a moment then swallowed up his dealers hand in his and agreed.

"What is it that you have me do? It involves M. Daee I imagine." The bearded man sat back down.

"I want to make an illusion, a big farewell to M. Daee's career."

"And just how do you suppose I do that?" The puggy faced man asked.

Through the shadows the big man could see his employers eyes glisten an evil light blue, "Have you ever heard of the Phantom of the Opera?"


	27. Chapter 27 : Nightmares

_I am trying to hurry along the story...forgive the endless chapters...it will resolve soon!_

**Chapter 26: Nightmares and Onto the Stage**

"Excellent lesson today, Christine," Erik concluded as they walked into his study.

"You say that every time," she smiled.

"It is the truth," he offered her a cozy chair by a candleabrea which rested on an end table, then poured wine into two glasses.

"Thank you," she nodded, taking one of the glasses.

Erik sat opposite her and drank. "Do you think you are ready to sing on the stage?"

"Do you?"

"Oh, of course, but I want to make sure you are ready."

"I do not know exactly. I have not thought about it much. I just enjoy singing for you."

Erik nodded a 'I'm honored' then wearily layed his head back on the stuffed chair.

"Are you tired?"

Erik took another sip of wine, "A little."

"Have you been sleeping at all?" Christine leaned forward, suddenly noticing his weariness.

He sighed, "No."

Christine shook her head, "Why?!"

Erik chuckled, "Christine, you bring me so much joy the way you care for me."

"Don't you start changing the subject."

He smiled a smile that made Christine's heart pound, "I just do not find sleep restful. Nightmares plague my thoughts."

"Nightmares? Oh what, may I ask?"

He hesitated a little, "The circus. Being chained in a cage. The sound of his whip cracking against my back. The horror on all the people's faces. Then if I am fortunate not to think of that time in my life, my thoughts go back even farther to what I was before you came into my life. The terrible things I had done, the tricks I played, the people I scared. How much of a pompous, arrogant inhuman person I was," he shivered with disgust. "Being in the circus was probably the worst time in my life and it is what I dream about most often."

"I cannot begin to imagine," Christine whispered, remembering back when she saw him for the first time at the circus in the cage during a show. She felt her eyes tearing up at the scene replaid in her mind, but shook the scene away. "I cannot even give you words to make it better. To make it all go away. I wish I could," she knelt before him and rested her arms on his knees and her chin on her folded arms.

"Oh, how blessed I am to have an angel in my life."

She stayed quiet and listened to him talk. He talked of happier subjects for a long while. He talked of the operas he saw, his favorite ones, his favorite ariea, and his favorite composer. He spoke of the colorful costumes and sceneries and how they pulled him into a different world. He talked of his favorite times with Christine, when he first realized he was madly and passionately in love with her for her (not just her voice).

The wonderful evening came to an end when the clock chimed two in the morning.

"I did not realize how the time just flew by," Christine yawned and stretched her arms up.

"It is too late and you are too tired to travel home," Erik stood slowly and helped Christine to her feet, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, "I have a room you can sleep comfortably in tonight."

"Oh, I think I can make it home," Christine yawned again and placed her weary head on his chest.

Erik chuckled, "I think I'll win this bet," he swooped her up in his arms and carried her to a small room with bright colors and a small bed. He gently laid her down on the bed and pulled a colorful, patched-quilt over her. She was already half asleep. He brushed her forehead, "Sleep well, my Love," and he walked towards the door.

"Wait," she fought hard to keep her eyes open, "You must promise you will try to get some sleep."

"I promise," Erik nodded, "Pleasant dreams," and with that he shut the door.

But they were not so pleasant...

_Christine looked around her, everything looked familiar. The dark never ending forest surrounded her. She was running. Running from what or who, she did not know. Her body ached. She was cold and wet. Suddenly, a red light appeared in the darkness some distance from her. It was not a comforting light. The light seemed to be the source of her fear. The light suddenly appeared brighter and bigger. She gasped, realizing it was headed towards her. She turned and ran as fast as she could, but all the while the light seemed to be gaining on her. She shrieked when she tripped over a branch and fell on her hands. The ground was wet and stung her hands and knees. She looked behind her and the red light was coming toward her at an alarming speed. She screamed...._

"Christine! Christine!"

She was shaken violently.

"Christine! You are all right! Wake up!"

Her eyes opened to the dim light of a strange room. She was on the floor with the quilt around her.

"Christine, you are all right. It is me, Erik. You are not at your home, you are in an extra room in my home. You had a dream, you are all right now." He repeated this until he was sure she was wide awake.

She looked at him, he was on the floor with her, his hands holding firm to her shoulders. "Oh, Erik!" She began to sob and collapsed into his chest.

"Shh," he soothed her and stroked her hair. "You are fine. I am sure that being in different surroundings gave you these wild nightmares. I am sorry for that. But you are all right now."

After her sobs subsided, she pulled back, "Erik, it was that same dream."

"What dream?"

"You remember, the one I had in my apartment several months ago."

"Oh, yes, remember. You had the door barred."

"I had the same dream. I do not understand it. It was so frightening. I was running from a red light in a forest. The light was chasing me and I tripped and fell and it caught up with me and that is when I wake up screaming."

Erik was silent for a moment then broke the silence, "Come on," he smiled softly. He helped her to her feet and guided her out of the room and into the study. The peaceful glow of several lit candles in the study gave her ease. He sat her down on a long cushioned couch and sat next to her. She leaned back onto his chest and they laid there for quite a while in silence.

Christine noticed that he was still dressed, "You did not go to sleep."

"I tried, but I could not sleep. I went to the conservatory to work, then I heard you scream."

She pressed her cheek against the ruffles on his shirt, "We certainly have problems," she made lightly.

He chuckled, "Yes, in more ways than one. Try and sleep now," he draped a blanket over them and wrapped his arms around her. She was soon asleep and not long after, he finally drifted to sleep. A peaceful sleep they both had not had in a long time.

* * *

It had been a two weeks since Christine's triumph. Several letters were arriving at her door with either men who tried to woo her with beautiful words or well wishes. After the first two days of the wooing and requests to make aquaintances, Christine became tired of it and was tearing the letters up before even reading them. One letter caught her attention though. It was not from any young man but from Monsieur Luv 'Monte, the opera manager. She opened it and unfolded the paper:

Dear Mademoiselle Daee,

I must say that in all my years I have never heard a voice quite like yours. Such quality and technique has been bestowed on you and that is the purpose of this letter. An urgent matter has emgered and I must ask you to honor me with your presence at the Opera House as soon as you receive this letter.

Sincerly,

Darius Luv 'Monte

Christine quickly retrieved her cloak and headed for the door. Outside she found a boughram and made haste to the Opera House at once. In twenty minutes she arrived at the front of the Granier and all its wonder. Paying the driver, she quickly climbed the stairs. Suddenly she remembered the first time she came to the opera house to have singing lessons. Such joy and excitement filled her as she went into the opera house seeking the opera manager, Gerard Carriere. Her hopes were crushed when she found out Gerard Carriere had been fired; but through a weird circumstance she was made the costume girl to the new opera managers.

Times had changed so much in the past two years. Almost going on three years. She made her way into the foyer and was greeted by Jean-Claude. "Jean-Claude, so nice to see you again."

"Yes, Mademoiselle. Monsieur Luv 'Monte wishes your presence at once." Jean-Claude lead the way.

"I pray that Monsieur Luv 'Monte is in good health?" Christine followed him quickly.

"Yes, quite good health. He is has done wonders for this Opera, almost as good as Gerard." Jean-Claude stopped at a business-like door with DARIUS LUV 'MONTE engraved on a gold plaque on the door. Jean-Claude knocked and opened the door when he heard the command 'enter.'

"Mademoiselle Daee, Monsieur." Jean-Claude introduced and Christine entered.

"Thank you that will be all Jean-Claude." The plump older man waited for the stage manager to leave when he turned to Christine. "My dear Mademoiselle, I am so sorry for you to travel through this bitter cold weather."

"Not at all Monsieur Luv 'Monte, I trust everything is all right. Your letter sounded important." She watched as the frazzled Monsieur paced back and forth.

"Yes, you might say it is important. Our diva, Gabriella Du'Stee, had the strangest accident. She claims when she was preparing for bed and when her hot milk had not arrived she went to see what was holding up the maid. When she approached the stairs that led to the kitchen she mysteriously fell down the stairs and now has a broken ankle."

"My heavens! Is she all right?"

"The doctor says she is fine but will not be able to perform. I assumed so when she broke her ankle," there was silence as Christine watched the opera manager pace the room.

"What does this have to do with me, might I ask?"

"Well, we all remember your success last week, all too well...and well, would you consider, I mean could you possibly, fill in for Mademoiselle Du' Stee?"

Christine's eyes widened, "What?! You would like me to sing in the Faust?"

"Well, more or less...actually more more than less. You would be starring in this new opera," Christine was speechless, "please Mademoiselle, if you do not sing then we will have to close this opera and refund the full house! That would be very bad for business."

"Is there not an understudy for the Mademoiselle?"  
"There is not an understudy for Mademoiselle Du' Stee! Grant it, she is not as pompous as the former opera managers wife, what was her name? La Carlotta, that's it, but the Mademoiselle insists on no understudy. I am helpless."

There was a moment of silence to what seemed like ages for Monsieur Luv' Monte. Christine cleared her throat, "Well, I guess I have no choice but to take the place of Mademoiselle Du' Stee."

"Splendid!!" The manager clapped his hands together.

"He wants you to what?" Erik asked in complete perplextion.

"Sing in the up coming Faust. Mademoiselle Du' Stee has broken her ankle and Monsieur Luv' Monte wants me to fill her place." Christine smiled.

"Well I must say this is a surprise."

To Christine, he sounded not at all surprised. Her left eye brow cocked up and her smile faded, "You did not have anything to do with M. Du' Stees' _accident_ by any chance, did you?"

Erik looked at Christine sharply and saw her questionable exprestion, "What on earth makes you think that?!"

"Monsieur Luv' Monte says that she said she did not trip or slip on anything, but that she was mysteriously pushed in the dark. It remains a mystery to her, to the doctor and to everyone else. A mystery is what someone I know deals with. Someone who wishes me to sing again on stage–"

"Silence! I cannot believe you would think me to do such a thing!" Erik faced her openly, "I am not the man I once was. He died, Christine. He died in the circus. I do not live that lifestyle anymore," there was another pause as he stared straight into her eyes. "I am truely sorry about M. Du' Stee, but I will not confess that I caused this to happen so that you could have a chance on stage again. I do not want you to get this chance because of me, but because you are the most beautiful singer in the world."

Christine immediately apologized, feeling guilty, "I am sorry," she walked up to him and put a hand to his chest. He wrapped his arms lightly around her, "Please forgive me. It was not right for me to accuse you. I do not know what came over me."

Erik nodded, "It is done," he smiled which lightened Christine's guilt, "What answer did you give Monsieur Luv' Monte?"

Christine smiled, "We have a lot of work ahead of us," with that Erik let out a short chuckle.

* * *


	28. Chapter 28 : Accused and the Ring

**Chapter 28: Accused and the Ring**

A week later, things grew more hectic. The show was approaching and everyone was edgy and nervous. The pranks had not ceased and there was another victim. Thankfully he was still alive, but had little to tell. He did not know what happened or saw who tried to kill him.

Christine was singing the main aria, while performing the choreography. The ballerinas danced behind and around her. Her voice was flawless and glorious. The cleaning ladies paused their chores several times to listen to the rehersel, the male actors watched with smiles from the sides as the beautiful woman graced the stage.

The aria finished and they ended with a pose. A few rippling of claps echoed then ceased as everyone went back to work.

"Excellent, Miss Daee, just excellent," the director George Delon bravoed as he climbed onto the stage.

"Thank you, Monsieur," she smiled and turned over her shoulder, "You all look so wonderful," she complimented the dancers.

Although the ballet rats were a little resentful toward Christine for having captured their precious Count's heart, they did admire her talent, modesty, and kindness. Monsieur Delon then went over a few changes to make transitions smoother when Mademoiselle Bernadette called, the costume mistress.

"Monsieur Delon! I simply must get Miss Daee fitted into these costumes!"

"That can wait," a calm, yet stern voice seemed to silence the crowd. Everyone turned to see a grim Monsieur Luv 'Monte appeared down stage. "Miss Daee, if I might have a word with you in my office,"

he turned and walked down the isle and out the door. The reason for the quick silence was the sudden change in the opera manager's mood. Usually he was a happy, joyful man, but he was so grim and upset, it was not like him.

This silence felt heavy and Christine's heart suddenly pounded hot and cold as she followed after the opera manager.

"Miss Daee, I have not brought you in here to compliment you on stay here at the Opera. What I have to discuss with you is a grave and puzzling situation." After offering Christine a seat, he sat down behind his desk. "Miss Daee, there are a few matters that are a bit puzzling to me. Which can concern the future of this Opera."

"Just what exactly is puzzling you, Sir?"

"In four words," he leaned forward on his desk, "Phantom of the Opera."

Christine was taken back a little. She hid her surprised expression by looking down at her hands then when she knew it was safe to look up, she did.

"There," he pointed, "that is what puzzles me. I have watched the ballet rats and the artists run around whispering words about this Phantom of the Opera. There is fear in their eyes. But in your eyes, there is no fear. In your eyes, there is this look of knowing. Knowing something that everyone else does not know."

"I do not understand. What are you saying? How does this phantom relate to me or the Opera?"

"I have done some research, Miss Daee. Upon my findings, I learned of a poor farm girl who received a job here as a costume girl; picking up, cleaning, and sorting the actor's laundry. She was a virtual nothing, no one remembered her name or her face. Then several months later, she appears with the most beautiful voice. Where had she learned such technic? No one is just born with such tonal quality. Her name and face is then spread like wild fire, she is offered the lead in the next opera which is a disaster that ends in financial loss for the Opera. She disappears for a night. Suggestions of abduction from the Phantom of the Opera. Then this Phantom disappears and she resurfices--"

"What is your point, Monsieur Luv 'Monte?"

"You knew the Phantom of the Opera."

"I thought the Phantom was a mere myth--"

"You knew him and he taught you how to sing."

Christine cocked her eye brow, "That is a bold statement."

"It is the truth, isn't it," he had a curious smile on his face.

Christine did not answer, but glared at him.

"Well then, jumping forward several months. Christine has become one of 'the people.' She lives a quiet life, when suddenly she disappears for a long time without a word or trace, then reappears with more than one companion. She declares that she is unable to sing because of a tragic illness, my sympathies of course, but then several weeks ago, she is able to sing, with the same technic and tone. It is like she was taught by her same teacher."

There was a long pause, each frozen in their positions; Christine at the edge of her seat, erect, and Luv 'Monte now sitting on the edge of his desk. "It seems you have done your homework. I did not realize my life had been such an open book."

"Miss Daee, the point is you knew the Phantom of the Opera, he coached you and he is again terrorizing this place and you seem to be helping him along--"

"I will not tolerate that accusation!!" Christine shot out of her chair.

"I do not want to be the enemy here, but it is obvious that you are helping him and that would make you an ascessery to murder."  
There was another pause, a short one this time. Christine breathed deeply, "Monsieur part of what you say is true. There was a man who taught me everything. At the time, I had no idea he was what people have named him to be."

"By the saints! You knew the Phantom of the Opera! So he was real! You talked to him!"

"Monsieur, I assure you, it was no great thing at the time. He was a secretive man, but very gentle and very kind--"

"Hard to believe," he became serious, "He is back now--"

"Monsieur Luv 'Monte, I have some news to tell you. The Phantom of the Opera died."

"What?!"

"What was assumed a few years ago about his death, was true. The Phantom of the Opera is dead."

"How can that be possible? Who is terrorizing the Opera?"

"That I can honestly answer by saying I do not know. That is what makes me act the way I do. Someone is sabatoging the Opera and there is no way it can be him."

"So you're saying that someone is just using him as a cover up," an exciting but worried gleam appeared in his eyes. "Something devious is going on to cover their tracks they're using the myth of the Phantom, very clever. I must tell the police, this must be stopped at once."

"Monsieur, wait, there might be a better way to handle this. You would not want it to be publicized that there is dirty scandal going on only a few more days before the opera, now would you? People would not want to come to a shady Opera House."

"You may have a point. But the police must know."

"I agree, the police must know, but why right now?" She smiled an elegant smile, "why not tell them right after the opera? That way you won't have to refund the house."

"But what if something happens. There already has been a murder."

"The police already know about that poor stage hand, so that is done with and it was publicized in the papers as an accident. I do not think that anything else will happen before the show."

"How can you be sure?" He asked curiously.

"Well, call it a feeling."

After a moment, Luv 'Monte agreed to not publicise the cover-up idea to the police until after the show and after some persuading, promised to keep her past confidential.

"It was a little embarassing. Even I did not know that it was the Phantom of the Opera."

"I have just one more question, Miss Daee? After your illness, how did you regain the ability to sing so well?"  
"I had a coach. A very talented man with the ability to do almost anything."

"His name?"

"The only name I can give you is----Erik."

"Very good. If you had not given me some proof, I might not have believed your story. You have my word that I will not devulge your past. My apologies for coming down so hard, but I have the Opera House and my reputation to consider, you understand."

"Of course. Well, if you'll excuse me, I should continue with my rehersels."

"Aduei."

Christine shut the door behind her and stood frozen. She tried to control her shaking nerves when Jean-Claude approached her.

"There has been a thirty minute lunch break."

"Thank you, Jean-Claude."

* * *

Late that night Christine and Erik practiced her songs. The lesson was not going so well and Erik could see that. Several times she would forget the next phrase or note or her mind wandered. While singing the final piece in the opera, Christine suddenly stopped and banged her fists on piano. "I cannot focus!"

Erik sat quietly for a moment, thinking on what to say. "Any particular reason for this absent mindedness?"

She sighed in frustration, "I keep thinking about what Luv 'Monte said to me, how he was able to read my expression. It was frightening. He is very observant."

"I am sure you are doing your best."

"I just wish I knew what was going on! All the pranks, the Phantom's trademarks. It is so frustrating."

Erik rose from his seat, "Your devotedness is too kind, Christine. Thank you."

Christine wrapped her arms around Erik and rested her head on his chest, "If only we had a lead as to who was doing this."

"We will find it, have faith. Right now you must focus on this opera. It cannot sing without you."

"I know. All right," she took her position beside the piano, "Shall we start where I left off?"

"No," he walked to her and took her hands. "I suggest you go home and rest. In the morning you can look over the music again and will have the last finishing touches in the rehersels," he offered his arm and she after she took it, he escorted her to the exit, but she lingered at the secret door.

"Someday, we won't have to do this in the dark, in secret. We will find a place where we can be together and not have to hide."

Erik bowed his head and kissed her hand. "It is a lovely dream."

"Hey now, have faith," she smiled, repeating his words, "I believe our dreams will come true." After a pleasant moment, they parted ways.

* * *

The schedule for the rehersel of the day was to run through the entire show. Everything, except the costumes, were complete. It was thrilling to be able to run through the show without stops. During one of the intermission breaks, the ballerinas rushed to one side of the stage and huddled around someone. Christine grinned at realizing who was the cause of their attraction. Count Phillipe de Chandon had paid a visit. After all he was the main backer for the show, he had every right to come and visit. It also gave the manager opportunity to schmooze.

Phillipe greeted the dancers, then dispersed them with flattering words. After they departed, he walked up to Christine. "Hello, Christine."

"Hello, Phillipe. It is so good to see you. You have kept yourself scarce these past few weeks."

"I have kept a professional distance. How are you? You look very well."

"I am. This is so exciting. I never dreamed this would happen."

"You were born for the stage, Christine. Anything can happen to cause such a wonderful talent like yours to be heard," he smiled, "So besides the opera what have you been up to, may I ask?"

"Oh, nothing really. Ever since that night at the ball, my life seems to revolve around this opera," Christine chimed a laugh, "I am so excited, Phillipe! I did not realize how much I have dreamed of doing this!"

"This opera was meant for you, Christine. Nothing stands in the way of a growing star ready to shine."

"Places please! Places for act three!" The stage announced.

"Well, I shall be an anxious audience."

"You're only watching the last half? Why not wait until opening night?"

Phillipe smiled, "Oh, call it a precaution if you will."

"A precaution?"

"Forget about it. Hurry along now." He sprung down the steps and took a seat in the audience. Christine went to her place, still pondering what he meant by a 'precaution'.

* * *

Down in the house below the Opera, Erik tidied up his bed chamber. He had been pondering the idea of redecorating his room for a while. It was too dark. It was the Phantom of the Opera, which he was not. He had not slept in his room for a long time. He usually drifted to sleep while reading a book in the study or not sleep at all. It was time to change and sleep in his room. It was time to change his room. He pulled down the black canopy on his bed, and the black drapes that hung from the walls. Pulling the drapes from the walls revealed white, rough-cut walls. The room looks brighter and bigger already. He dusted furniture and nick-nacks, swept the floor, and shook the rug.

"Erik?" A voice called from the study.

"In here, Gerard." Erik continued his work.

"Oh my!" Gerard was shocked at what he witnessed at the threshhold of Erik's room. "It's not black."

"No, it's not black. It's not the Phantom of the Opera's room anymore. The Phantom is dead and so is his room," Erik stopped working and looked at his father, "You have come at a perfect time. Would you do me a favor and buy some things for me?"

"Of course. What kind of things?"

"Oh, white sheets, colorful quilts, pretty paintings, satin pillows--I'll make a complete list for you," there was an excitement in his voice as he rattled off things.

"That's fine, when would you like these--"

"As soon as possible. Here," he passed his father and went into the study to make a list. After finishing the list, he picked up a pouch with coins in it. He handed both to his father. "Spend as much as you want. I'll have the back enterance open for you--"

"Erik," Gerard stopped his excited son, "It pleases me to see this creative side of you, but may I ask the reason for all this change?"

"Why not? I am a changed man, why not change my home. You and Christine both have changed me. Besides that room was crying for new decorum."

Gerard laughed, "All right. I will go to the shops and buy the things on this list."

"Off you go!" Erik practically pushed his father out of his house.

"Oh, wait. I came down here to tell you something," Gerard rethought what his news was, "Ah, Christine told me to tell you that she wanted to see you tonight about something. She would be here around nine o'clock."

"Thank you, I will be ready for her. Now, is that all you remember you had to tell me?"

"Yes, why?"

"Now you can go."

Gerard laughed, "All right all right. I'll go. I'll be back later on with the things you asked for."

"Thank you."

After Gerard left, Erik went back to his room and continued rearranging and cleaning. He hummed to himself the male part of Christine's duets she sang with the male tenor in the opera. Time went by. He moved to his dresser. Taking out all the old cloths from three years ago and making space for the new clothes he requested on his list for Gerard, he reached the bottom drawer and stopped. He felt an object in the back of the drawer. "What is this?" He pulled it out into the light and saw a small wooden box. He tried to think if he had ever seen it before and came to the conclusion that he had not. He opened it curiously and a folded piece of paper fell out. Retrieving the paper in his hand, he then looked at the contents in the box. A silver ring with one small diamond in the center. It was a beautiful ring. Peeking beyond his curiosity, he opened the paper to find the purpose of the ring. It was a letter :

_My Darling Erik,_

_Oh how much it pains me to write this, because when you read this letter I will not be with you anymore. I truly hope you are well. Darling, there is something that I must tell you that I was too afraid to admit in person. It is about your father. Growing up you were raised by Gerard and myself. The man who has raised you all your life is your true father, Gerard. I am so sorry I have kept this from you, but we thought it best for you my son. Please don't be angry with me. I love you so much and could not bear the thought of hurting you. _

_I hope you have found someone to love. It would not be so hard for you, you were always so handsome. My darling, this ring I want you to give to your true love. This was my ring, your father, Gerard, gave it to me. Give them this ring as a symbol of my love for both of you. I know you will find happiness with someone who will take the place of my love._

_I now must end this letter, My Love, please forgive me for all that I put you through, and give my love to Gerard._

_Your Mother_

Erik sat frozen, staring at the letter. Tears escapes his eyes and fell behind his mask. "She knew I would fall in love."


	29. Chapter 29 : Two More Days

**Chapter 29: Two More Days**

Later that night Gerard and Erik sat in Erik's study. Upon returning from shopping, Gerard had found his son on the floor with his mother's ring.

"I wondered what happened to her ring. She did not have it on her when she died." Gerard sighed, "I still feel awful for keeping my relation to you a secret."

"I understand why you did. It was all right, Gerard. I have a father now and that is all that counts." There was a pause as they both stared at the ring, "I bet she was so lovely when you met."

"She was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. I loved her greatly. And she loved you." Gerard smiled at his son. "She thought you were the most handsome young boy."

"The darkness down here must have affected her eye sight," Erik laughed.

"Well, even it did, she did not look at just your face, but your heart and your soul. She found beauty there."

Erik twisted the ring between his fingers, letting the diamond sparkle in the candle light, "I miss her."

"I do too, Erik. I do too."

They talked for a while. Gerard reminising over how he first met Belladova, and Erik listened intently, trying to picture the story in his head. After an hour later, Gerard finished, "Look at the time, Christine should be coming soon." Gerard stood to bid his farewell.

"Gerard," Erik stood, "Gerard I am tired."

"What?"

"I am tired of living here. Sure I have made it different, I've changed things, but it is not like normal people. There are no windows letting in sunlight, I am not certain on how much I want to live here anymore."

"How long have you been thinking this?"

"Well, a while. I thought redecorating would change my mind, but it hasn't. I do not want to live down here anymore. I'm not so sure I want to live in Paris anymore."

Gerard put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, "I can not say I know how you feel, but where would you go? What about Christine?"

"I do not know where I would go. I've always dreamed and seen pictures, but I want to experience them and see them first hand. I want to see the pyramids, I want to see the ancient castles in Ireland and Scotland. I want to go to America, England, Germany. I want to travel--"

"Erik, those are wonderful plans, but how can you attempt to do this?"  
Erik growled in frustration and grabbed his mask, "I hate this thing. I hate hiding myself! I hate my face!"

"Erik?" The sweet voice of Christine called softly in the distance. She appeared, "What is wrong, you sound upset."

Erik sighed back his anger and replaced his anger with a pleasant smile, "Nothing, Christine. Nothing at all." He quickly slid his mother's ring into his pocket.

She approached and slipped her arms around him and gave him a hug. "Are you sure? You can tell me anything."

"Christine, everything is fine. Gerard and I were just having a discussion." He reassured her in a calm voice.

Gerard grinned then heaved a sigh, "Right. Well, I will leave you two to be alone. I shall retire to my home. Good night."

"Good night Gerard," Erik said.

"Pleasant dreams," Christine smiled and they watched as Gerard left the room.

"Now, what was it that you wanted to tell me? Gerard said you had something important." Erik wrapped his arms around her and pressed her into a tighter hug. He then led her to the stuffed sofa so they could be more comfortable.

"Well, Phillipe visited my today. He was surprisingly pleasant, but something did not seem right."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know exactly, but he was acting a little strange, like he was hiding something, and for some reason I instantly thought of you."

"Of me?" He scoffed.

"Yes. It reminded me of what we have been puzzled about these past few weeks. About this new phantom."

"Do you think the Count is doing these things?"

"I do not know. I would hope not. What do you think?"

"Well, the man I caught a glimpse of was not the Count. Rest assured, though, if he is a suspect, I will keep my eyes open for him."

Christine smiled, "I can always count on you." She rested her head against his chest and he pulled her close.

"I am flattered," they sat in sweet silence for a moment, listening to the fire crackle and pop. "How are the rehersels going?"

"Very well. Two more days till opening night, I must say that I am a little nervous."

"You will do well. I will be listening."

"You will not watch?"

Erik shook his head, "I cannot very well purchase a ticket for a seat nor sit in my box--"

Christine huffed a playfull pout, "I really want you to watch," she puckered her lower lip and looked up at him with pitiful eyes.

Erik laughed, "Christine you amuse me."

Christine giggled, "I understand. At least you will be able to hear me sing, that is good enough for me," she smiled, patting his ruffled shirt.

"Oh, Christine, you are too good for me," he grinned down at her with his handsome smile.

*********************

The next night, Christine, still at the opera house, sat in her dressing room. The same room she had three years ago. The same room with the magic mirror. Beautiful red wallpaper decorated the wall with lines of little white flowers. The room was well furnished and very luxurious. Flowers filled the room and gave a potent scent. She sat at her dressing table reading the notes of her arias and operettas over and over again till her mind started to turn to mush. All the notes began to blur and at that point she glanced over at the clock that continually ticked the time; one-thirty in the morning. Christine heaved a weary sigh, propped her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. Rubbing her eyes she glanced in the mirror and saw faint circles appearing. "I must go home to bed." Christine sighed, collecting the papers back together. She would not do herself any good by looking like a zombie for the opera.

"Erik." She whispered, glancing at the large mirror that hid the secret door. She wanted to say good bye to him before she left. Christine left her papers on her desk and draped a shaul around her shoulders. Heading over to the mirror, Christine lifted her hand to the left corner of the frame. Hidden in the elaborate, gold design was a small button that matched perfectly to the other corner, but this one was a secret button to open the mirror.

Christine pressed it and stepped forward into enterance. The mirror closed behind her. Turning to her right, Christine blindly searched for the lantern that rested on a small shelf. After a short search, she found it and struck the flint and the fire danced on the stone ceilings and walls in the tunnel. Lighting the candle, Christine lifted the lantern in front of her. the light lead a bright and cheery way down to Erik's home and took the same bounce that Christine had in her step as she hurried through the familiar maze of stairs and halls. Christine knew she was getting closer as the air became warm from the fire from the study.

She opened a door to the study at the end of a hallway and closed the door behind her. She was about to call his name, but stopped when she heard banging keys and discorded chords. Her brow furrowed as she went to investigate. Stopping at the closed door to the music room, she opened the door just slightly enough to see with one eye. There was Erik sitting at a piano playing melodies and combinations of pieces. He would play a few chords then stop to write them down on the music sheet in front of him. He repeated this over and over. _He must be writing a song! _She was so excited she could finally hear him play a song he wrote. Her thoughts suddenly ended when he began to sing softly.

He played a soft and beautiful introduction, then after a while of humming, mumbling words, and fumbling the keys, clear words came out of his mouth and his voice was beautiful. The most beautiful, smooth voice she ever heard.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30 : Christine's Thoughts and Opening Night**

Sleep did not come to Christine. She tried, but her mind would not rest. So many thoughts ran through her head. The opera was only eighteen hours away! She was ready, she knew she was, but thousands of people were coming to watch her. She tried not to think about the mass of people. She would do well, she had a great teacher. _Oh, Erik. _His composition filled her thoughts. She wanted to hear this song he wrote. Was it finished? Would he play it for her? How long had he been working on this song? What was the purpose for writing the song? Could she dare to ask him to sing it for her?

_Oh! Why am I so nervous?! Stop it! You must get some sleep!_ But she was afraid to sleep. She was afraid the nightmare would plague her dreams again. That strange and terrifying dream that seemed to have a meaning. The dream seemed to be telling her something, warning her. The red light was a symbol, a terrifying symbol, or something that scared it actually a red light? What could that glowing red mean to her? Why was it that as the glowing red seemed to come near her, someone would save her. A hand would grab her shoulder. A warm and gentle hand that reached for her in the dark. Maybe the hand was Erik's? He always was there to wake her from the dream. Maybe he was her savior in this--_In what?! What did he need to save me from? Is something bad going to happen? I hope not! I would like to finish the opera._ That was another matter. She could not seem to forget what Phillipe had said. _'A precaution' for what? What precaution was there? Does he think something will happen? More importantly, does he know something will happen?_ _What a terrifying thought_.

* * *

Christine paced quietly in the study of Erik's home early the next morning. She exchanged look between the fixtures and paintings and studied the light that bounced off of them. The bouncing light would illuminate the paintings and darken the fixtures. It was beautiful. _Where is Erik? _She looked at the clock on the mantel, she had been waiting for fifteen minutes. _I do hope he is all right._ She looked around the room again and stopped when she saw a door in a dark corner of the room. She went to it, opened the door, and gasped at a cool breeze that blew past her. Memories flooded back as she gazed at the familiar scene before her. A forest-like place with green everywhere; trees, bushes, and various plants. She took a step into this new realm and gazed at the beauty. She remembered this place all too well. This was where she betrayed his trust. _I hate myself for causing him pain, for what I did._ Her mind traveled back to the time he took her on a stroll for a picnic.

_"So, what shall we do today? I have an idea! How about a picnic?" Erik pulled out a picnic basket that was resting on a side table._

_"A picnic?!" _

_"Yes, through the woods, by the waters edge. Shall we go?" _

_She took his hand and he led her to a wonderous place. A place filled with green. Trees, bushes, and plants made the dark place almost cheery._

_"Do you like these woods of mine?" _

_"Yes, very much" Christine was in awe at the surroundings._

_"One can get quite lost in these woods if one doesn't know the path, or have a guide who does..."_

_He helped her to the ground and pulled out a bottle of wine and a book written by his favorite poet, William Blake. _

_"Would you sing for me?" He asked._

_"If you wish," Christine remained silent and looked down at her hands._

_"I'm sorry, is there something wrong."_

_She thought to find the right words, "If I sing for you will you grant me a favor?"_

_"No."_

_Christine was confused, "Why?"  
__Erik laughed, "Because one must sing for love and joy, not gain. I will grant you a favor, regardless of what you do. Tell me what you wish."_

_"Let me see your face."_

_His happy expression vanished quickly, "You have asked, I'm afraid, the one thing in my power I cannot grant. Please, do not ask it again."_

_"I have seen your eyes, I know your heart. Why not let me know your face as well?"_

_"Because I have no face, I have only the semblance of a face, no one should ever have to look at it."_

_"I could look at it--"_

_"Stop!"_

_"I could!"  
"I ask you please to stop."_

_"Only if you say you do not love me will I stop. Maestro, Please?"_

_"No, you don't know what you ask--"_

_"I do! Please, you've given me so much let me at least give you this."_

_"Listen to me Christine Daee, this gentle morning stroll with you is the closest I have ever been to bliss. I am satisfied."_

_"But there's more."_

_"I'm sure, but not for me."_

_I was so unprepared. _She felt as though she had grown so much in the last three years. She knew that soon, very soon, she would be able to love Erik's face just like his mother did. Christine sighed and shut the door to those sad memories and turned to the present. Still all alone, she wondered if she should dare go into the music room. _It will not harm anything._ She looked around to make sure she was alone, then crept into the music room. She shut the door behind her and stared at the vacant piano. Guilt crept into her thoughts. _This isn't right. I should wait till he wants me to see the song._ But curiosity overcame her and she walked quietly to the piano. A stack of music rested on the music holder. She looked at the door, then back at the music. Carefully she turned the top page over and the paper was covered with notes. It was almost intimidating.

She tried to sight read the treble staff, but after several difficult tries, she pulled back the cover over the ivory keys and tried to plunk out the notes.

"Were you not taught that it is not nice to pry into other people's privacy?" Christine jumped and a startled squeal escaped her mouth.

She backed away from the piano as if it were a diseased or something awful as Erik walked to the piano and turned the page over. _How does he do that? He is so quiet._ "I am sorry. I just thought it was beautiful last night and wanted to hear it."

"So you _were_ spying on me. Tsk-tsk," he waved a finger at her. He was not terribly upset. She could read in his tone of voice, which made her guilt lighter.

"I am sorry. Do you forgive me?"

Erik grinned, "I already have."

After a moment Christine asked, "Is it finished?"

Erik nodded, "Yes. I finished it early this morning. I went to find something to eat and came back here to find you snooping."

Christine pulled the corners of her mouth back as she always did in a nervous or ashamed state, "Would you play it for me?" Erik looked down at the keys and started to shake his head. "Please?" She pleaded.

"I do not think you will like it."

"Anything you do, I like."

Erik looked up at her and shook his head, "Christine--"

"When will you let go? I did when you told me too. I am asking you to let go now, and sing. Please. It has been so long since I have heard you sing."

After a long pause, Erik sighed then sat down on the bench and put the music in place. Christine's heart was pounding. She took her usual spot beside the piano and waited patiently.

Erik looked like he was struggling to start. He glanced repeatedly at the music then the keys then would clear his throat several times. Christine still waited quietly. She did not want to make him any more nervous than he already was by urging him to start. After a moment, Erik heaved a sigh and started to play a quiet, haunting melody. The same beautiful, melodic introduction she heard the night before with a few additions. Suddenly, he stopped. Apparently it was hard for him to sing for an audience. "Sorry," he whispered, then started the song over. He closed his eyes and this time, he opened his mouth to sing:

_Like the sound of silence calling, I hear your voice and suddenly I'm falling, lost in a dream. Like the echoes of our souls are meeting, you say those words and my heart stops beating. I wonder what it means. What could it be that comes over me? At times I can't move, at times I can hardly breathe._

His voice was so soft and light, he was still a little nervous, but it was beautiful. She forgot how rich his voice was. Her spine tingled at the warmth in his voice.

_When you say you love me, the world goes still, so still inside and when you say you love me, for a moment, there's no one else alive. You're the one I've always thought of. I don't know how, but I feel sheltered in your love. You're where I belong. And when you're with me if I close my eyes, there are times I swear I feel like I can fly!!! For a moment in time! Somewhere between the Heavens and Earth, and frozen in time, Oh when you say those words._

His voice was nothing she had ever heard before. She could hardly breathe at the sound of his--_There are no words to describe the most beautiful voice ever heard. It's breath taking. Awe inspiring. The walls seemed to tremble at the sound of his voice._ The music was growing louder and louder as he began putting his whole body into the song.

_When you say you love me, the world goes still, so still inside and when you say you love me, for a moment there no one else alive. And this journey that we're on, how far we've come, and I celebrate every moment. And when you say you love me, that's all you have to say. I'll always feel this way. When you say you love me, do you know how I love you?_

Christine did not realize the song had ended. She could still hear him singing. She savored his voice. Erik stood and she realized he was done. Her eyes glistened with tears, "Erik, that was so beautiful," she exclaimed in an awe struck whisper.

He stared into her eyes for a moment. Then bowed his head, "Thank you," he replied quietly. "I had a beautiful inspiration," his eyes locked with hers and she realized that he meant her.

* * *

Christine sat in her dressing room, slowly finishing the last touches of her make-up. She was moving almost mechanically. She was still awe struck by Erik's powerful song. She was not thinking about the performance, but of Erik. In a daze, her mind wandered to the beautiful melody. She hummed it slowly.

"I have heard that if the audience is left humming the melody, then the song must be good," she jumped at the voice. She looked into the mirror to see Erik standing behind her with a smile on his face. He looked so handsome. He was in evening attire from head to toe. He looked so dignified with his black bowtie, white ruffled shirt, dark red vest and black jacket with tails. His black hair was neatly combed and his white mask covered his face.

She giggled, "It is a beautiful song, Erik. I hope you will sing it again for me soon."

Erik bowed, "If you wish."

"What are you hiding?" She turned, suddenly realizing he had his hands behind his back. He beamed a grin and brought forth a blood, red, long-stemmed rose. A black ribbin was tied in a bow right underneath the beautiful petals. She gasped and brought it gently to her nose. The rose, by far, smelt better than all the other flowers in the room. "Erik, it is so beautiful! Thank you!"

"You will do splendidly tonight," he took her hand and pressed it to his lips. "Congradulations."

A knock on the door broke the pleasant scene. "One moment." Erik quickly and quietly disappeared behind the mirror, giving one last look at Christine with an encouraging smile. When the mirror shut, Christine turned to the door, "Come in."

The door opened and Phillipe poked his head in, "There she is! The most graceful and talented singer in all of Paris!" Phillipe shut the door behind him, came to her side, and knelt on one knee. He took her hand and kissed it.

"Phillipe! How good of you to come. Thank you." She turned back to the mirror to finish her make-up, "I am a little nervous."

"Don't be," he put comforting hands on her shoulders. "You will be wonderful. The audience will be astounded." He then pulled something out of his pocket, "This is for you."

"Oh, Phillipe, you shouldn't have," she opened the velvet box and gasped at the sparkling necklace in the case. The necklace was covered in diamonds, "This is too much." She exclaimed.

"A beautiful necklace for a beautiful woman," he took it out of the case and clasped the chain around her neck. They both looked at the necklace in the mirror. "So beautiful."

Christine grinned, "Thank you, Phillipe."

He became serious and turned her chin to face him. "Christine. I love you. I am sure this is not the right time to tell you, but I do."

Christine was speechless. He had exclaimed those same words so long ago and she reacted about the same both times. The silence crept by slowly and became uncomfortable. She knew Erik was behind the mirror watching, and Phillipe was beside her waiting for a reply. "Phillipe, I do not know what you want to me say."

"Say you love me too!" He grinned. "I want to marry you! I want to grow old with you."

"Phillipe, you are right, this was not the right time for this."

Phillipe's smile vanished, "What do you mean?"  
"Phillipe, I am flattered you have these feelings for me, but I do not want to discuss this right now."

There was a knock on the door, "Ten minutes," which made Christine's heart beat faster.

"Christine, you do love me, right?"

"In some way, a part of me does," Phillipe smiled and leaned forward to kiss her on the lips. She retreated by putting a hand between them, "But it is not the kind that wants to grow old with you. I do not love you that way. You are a good friend, Phillipe, and I have cherished our friendship, but that is all."

Phillipe's eyes glistened and his eyes grew red from the tears. He stood, "I thought we could make it this time, Christine."

She became a little worried when she saw a hint of anger in his teary eyes. For a moment, an enraged look crossed his face, but it disappeared when another knock on the door sounded.

"Christine?" Gerard poked his head in, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'll come back."

"No, I am leaving, Gerard." Phillipe buttoned his jacket and stood erect. "I have overstayed my welcome." He almost charged for the door as Gerard entered. Then, suddenly, something happened, that Christine and Gerard did not catch. Something they did not hear. Something, Phillipe did that was almost unnoticable, except for one. One, to whom it was meant for. Phillipe glanced at the large mirror with almost a glistening hatred and muttered something that Christine and Gerard did not hear. "So be it," he whispered. Three words, that struck the one whom it was meant for with a frightening blow. Then Phillipe was gone.

* * *

The first and second act went by with success. The audience was trapped by Christine's presence and voice. Monsieur Luv 'Monte sat so tall with pride that he almost was bending backwards. He found her. He suggested her for the part. He was proud of that.

The third act started and Christine could not have been happier. On stage, she blocked everything on the outside world out. The music, the lights, the scenery, the costumes, all let her escape to a magical place that pleased her.

Her favorite scene was approaching. The scene where, her pirate lover comes to her rescue from the rich and evil emperor. In this scene, she and her love, played by the tenor Monsieur Gappette, exclaim their love for one another and pledge to love each other no matter what happens. This was followed by the climax scene where the pirate and the emperor duel. The pirate then is suppose to pull out a pistol and fire it in the air.

Monsieur Gappette pulled out his pistol and fired it, but something went wrong. Followed by the echoing fire, the lights flickered on and off. The audience became frantic as the chandolier above them started to rattle, sputter, and shake. The actors on stage tried to hold their composer, but could not help being afraid as the chandolier continued to threaten the audience below it. Suddenly, there was another shot that fired and the lights in the entire Opera House went out. People screamed and ran blindly in the auditorium.

"Turn on the lights! Somebody!" They screamed.

"What happened?!"

Then the lights came on, the chandolier had settled and the lights stabalized, but there was one problem.

"Where is Christine Daee!?"

"I do not see her!"

"Where did she go?!"

A stage hand ran out from backstage, "She's gone!"

* * *

_**The song "When You Say You Love Me" curtisy of the talented Josh Groban**_


	31. Chapter 31: The Terror Just Begins

**Chapter 31: The Terror Just Begins**

Christine blinked her eyes open. The last thing she remembered was the chandolier shaking and the lights flickering. She gasped as she found herself in a dark place. It was too small to be the auditorium. The room smelled of musk, stale hay, and dirt. Her costume was stained and tattered from lying so long on the cold ground. She crawled slowly on the ground to feel for a way out. She felt something run across her hand and she jolted back in terror. Where was she? What happened? She could not remember anything that happened. She sat in the middle of the room for what seemed like hours. Her eyes were adjusting to the dark so she could make out her surroundings. Chains were hanging from the walls and a wooden cot padded with hay sat up against one wall. She was in some sort of prison or chamber. Why?

She jumped at a loud rumbling sound from the opposite end of the room. A heavy iron door opened slightly and a dark figure slithered into the room. This figure did not bring her comfort. She was terribly afraid for all she could see was a bright red glow that was attached to the figure. This red glow started for her slowly and she gasped and retreated frantically into one of the corners. "NO!" She screamed as the red glow came closer.

* * *

Gerard burst into Christine's dressing room, "Christine!" He found it empty. He shut the door behind him and locked it and as he did, the mirror opened and out stepped Erik. Gerard was almost frightened at the anger that radiated from Erik's body. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were menacing, his fists clenched, and his stance was so erect. "Erik, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Erik growled, pointing a finger in Gerard's face. After a moment, he sighed and the tension in his stance relaxed only a little, "I was so blind. Why did I not think of it before."

"How did she disappear?"

"Through the trap doors. The lights went out and I saw her suddenly fall and disappear through the trap door near the center stage."

"What is happening? Where is Christine now? Who would do this?"

Erik gave Gerard an angry look, "Who else has some claim on Christine. Who else knows about me and Christine? Who has access to all that is in the Opera House and has been down to my home?!" Erik growled again and charged for the mirror. Gerard followed close behind, coming to the same conclusion that Erik had. The mirror closed.

* * *

"You think that abducting me and holding me will make me love you!!" Christine screamed in rage.

"I wanted you! I did everything to get you to come to me. It was I who sent those notes. I wanted you to come to me, but you ran to _him_! To a deformed creature!" He grabbed her shoulders and shook her violently.

Christine was so disgusted, "You are sick! What ever possessed you? Did you really believe that scaring me into loving you would work?!"

"You ran to him! But no more! Everyone will be on his trail. People think the Phantom is alive because of me. They will think he kidnapped you again! They will search for him and find him, and when they do, they will kill him!"

Christine broke free from his hold and punched him in the face. She ran for the door, but he caught her by her dress and it wripped as she fell to the ground. She tried to stand to her feet, but he pounced on her and pinned her to the ground. "You will love me! I have everything to offer you!"

"I hate you! I hate you for what you have done!" Christine's words were smothered as he crushed his lips to hers. She fought hard to free her lips from his, "ERIK!" She screamed at the top of her lungs when she broke free.

* * *

Erik stopped so suddenly that Gerard plowed right into him. "What is it?" Gerard asked in between breaths. They had been searching every tunnel for Christine.

"A cry echoed," Erik whispered and remained silent to hear it again.

_"ERIK!" _

He heard his name bounce off the stone walls. He dashed ahead with Gerard following Erik close behind.

"Do you know where she is?"

"I have an idea." Erik continued to run through the maze and seemed to be traveling downward. "The echo seemed to come from the torture chambers."

"Oh, no!" Gerard gasped.

"If he does anything to her, I'll skin him alive!" Erik growled and quickened his pace.

* * *

The Opera had been quickly cleared. Monsieur Luv 'Monte was interviewed by the police. He had no idea what had happened to his star. "I can only hope she is alive." He expressed his truest concerns.

The police then began a search in the Opera House and hoped to find Mademoiselle Daee and her captore.

Monsieur Luv 'Monte stood on the vacant stage, after the police had disappeared, looking out at the empty seats. He hoped he would not have to refund the entire house. What was he to do? This sort of thing does not and should not happen!

* * *

Christine laid on the stale hay, sobbing and shaking violently. She had never been so scared. Phillipe had truly gone mad. He had told her all that he planned to do with her when he would take her away from the Opera House and it horrified her. It horrified her so much that she was almost thrown to regurgitate. He had torn the sleeve of her dress when she tried to break free from him and she scratched him across his face in defense.

This was a horrifying nightmare. Hers had come true. She only prayed that the end to her nightmare would come true as well.

"Christine?" A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped back, trembling with fear. "Shh--It's all right," a familiar voice whispered.

She collapsed in his arms when she realized who it was. He held her tightly trying to quiet her sobs and hold her still. "Erik," her voice trembled, "he's gone mad!" her voice was in a frantic whisper.

He looked down at her face and could tell that Phillipe had beat her. Her lip was bleeding and was beginning to swell. Her face was covered in dirt and stained with her tears. Part of her hair fell passed her shoulders in tangled designs and the other part was still trying to hold its position on her head.

He only clutched her more, "Come, I'll get you out of here. There a secret passage just behind this wall, Gerard is waiting on the other side," he pratically picked her up and guided her to the small door at the base of the wall. Just as he was about to open the secret door, a rumble sounded and the iron door opened.

"Oh, no!" Christine exclaimed in terror.

"I was so hoping you would come," Phillipe's voice had a different tone. It was threatening and frightening.

Erik stepped in front of Christine, "Well, I wouldn't want to disrupt your plans." Erik replied sarcastically. Christine gripped his shirt tightly and buried her face in his back.

"You have for the last time," Phillipe pulled out a revolver. "This is too easy--"

"No!" Christine tried to step in front of Erik but, he held her back behind him. "Please, please, Phillipe, don't do this," her voice cracked.

"My dear, I have no intention of shooting him....yet." Phillipe motioned with the revolver to the door. "Start walking. Now!"

Erik wrapped his arm tightly around Christine's neck protectively, pulling her under his strong arm, as they walked towards the door, keeping himself between Christine and Phillipe.

"Go to your right," Phillipe commanded and Erik and Christine followed his instructions and walked down a dim lit tunnel. A skinny, dark man appeared at the end of the tunnel and Erik pulled Christine even closer to him. "Meet the man who resurected the Phantom of the Opera," Phillipe smiled.

The skinny man grinned devilishly. "It is pleasure to finally meet such a legend," he said in a grovelly voice, looking at Erik. He then looked Christine up and down. The rip in her dress slit up to her thigh, revealing her bare leg. He bit his lip and smiled. Christine shivered and clutched Erik's shirt.

Erik growled and grabbed the skinny man, with his free hand, by the neck and violently pulled him close to his face, his teeth grinding. "Don't even think about it. Don't." Erik growled. The skinny man was almost afraid but held his composer.

"Let him go," Erik felt the barrel of the revolver against his neck. He obeyed, thrusting the man back against the wall with such considerable force that the man lost his balance and almost fell. "Get up, you idiot!" Phillipe barked.

Christine shivered as she tried to hold back her tears. How were they going to escape this torture?


	32. Chapter 32 : The Last Close Call

**Chapter 32: The Last Close Call**

Gerard, behind the secret door, heard the entire conversation. He did not know what to do. He did not know where Phillipe was taking them. "Come on, Gerard, think!" He told himself. He decided to try and make it back to the stage. Maybe he could find Jean-Claude and they could do something.

* * *

"Where are we going?" Christine asked quietly to Erik.

"Where it all began," Phillipe, who had heard her, answered. "And where it will all end, for him," Phillipe pointed to Erik.

_The stage. _Christine thought.

* * *

Monsieur Luv 'Monte was about to leave the stage when an elderly man ran onto the stage. "Who are you? Are you all right, Monsieur?"

Gerard tried to catch his breath, "I am all right. My name is Gerard Carriere--"

Luv 'Monte thought for a moment, "Were you not the manager of this Opera House a few years ago?"

"Yes, yes, please, Monsieur, excuse me if I sound rude, but have you seen Jean-Claude?"

"No, I have not. Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm afraid not," Gerard shook his head.

"Why were you running just now? Do you know anything about the disappearance of Miss Daee?"

His question was interrupted when they both heard sounds on the other side of the stage. "Monsieur, I implore you, please leave--" Gerard started to shove the opera manager off the other side of the stage, but it was too late.

Suddenly, out of the dark. Two men appeared in the light and they were in a violent fight.

"Miss Daee?!" Monsieur Luv 'Monte exclaimed when Christine dashed onto the stage and ran straight to Gerard.

"Gerard!!" Christine ran to Gerard, "They will kill each other!"

"Miss Daee, where have you been?!" Monsieur Luv 'Mont was flabergasted at Christine's drastic difference in appearance. She was covered with dirt, her dress ripped, torn and tattered, her lip was swollen, and her hair covered her shoulders in a wild tangle. Christine looked at Monsieur Luv 'Monte with a panicked look, having just noticed his presence.

She then looked back at Gerard. "What are we to do?!"

"That is the Count de Chandon! Is his life in danger? What is going on? Who is that other man?"

"Monsieur, please, leave!" Gerard pleaded.

"There was another man, he tried to grab me and Erik hit him, then all broke loose. Erik and Phillipe started to fight for the revolver and the third man was shot! Now, they are fighting and I fear for Erik!"

"Erik?! Who is Erik?" Luv 'Monte looked at the two men fighting and saw the one wearing a mask. "Who is that?! Where are the police! I am going to fetch them if I do know what is going on?!"

"Police!? The police are here!?" Christine became frantic. Gerard was concerned, she was beginning to lose control of her mind.

"Christine, do not worry. The police are not here."

Luv 'Monte nodded his head, "Yes they are. They are looking for you, Miss Daee--" He was suddenly taken back. He gasped, "Erik? He was your voice instructor?" He looked at the men fighting.

Both rivals had chased each other to the second story scenery.

"He's wearing a mask." Luv 'Monte was putting the pieces together and looked at Christine in anger. "You lied to me! That is the Phantom of the Opera!"

Christine was shaking and her eyes were wide with hysteria. Gerard took her under his arm gently as all three suddenly turned to the two men on the platform. Erik swung a tight, angry fist to Phillipe's face causing him to lose his balance, but the Count quickly regained his stance and swung back. Erik was quick and threw up his arm to block Phillipe's wailing hand, carefully guarding his mask. As Phillipe's hand was stopped by Erik's, Erik took the chance and smashed his fist into Phillipe's unprotected nose. Then with a sharp chop from Erik's elbow on the Count's shoulder, Phillipe was driven to his knees. While there, stund for a moment, the Count saw in the corner of his eye his revolver on the stairs. It must have fallen from his hands during the fight. Funny, he could not remember dropping it.

Quickly the Count pounced for it, grabbed it and whirled about to face Erik. The masked man froze.

Phillipe laughed wickedly, "It looks like it will be _your _burial, and Christine will be mine. As I said before, this was all too easy. I would have much preferred the police arresting you and you permanently on display in some circus act."

"Already been there." Erik growled and dared to take a step forward.

Phillipe thrust the barrel forward, warning his opponent to stand still, "Well, too bad you left. I'm sure they would have been happy to have you back," with that remark, he took aim at Erik's heart.

Christine's eyes widened, "Phillipe! Please, don't do this!" Christine screamed desparately. Phillipe took his eyes off of Erik for one split second at the mention of his name. In that second, it gave Erik the chance to thrust his hand forward and grab the barrel of the revolver.

It was too late for Phillipe to do anything. Erik had grabbed the weapon, but Phillipe, not willing to give up, lunged for it back. He was not going to let his deformed creature live! Both struggled for the weapon and both came inches from each other's faces. The struggle for the weapon was forced close between them. They were so close as they struggled that from the ground Christine, Gerard, and Luv 'Monte could not tell what was happening or who was winning.

Christine was trembling violently with fear. Her body pumped hot and cold. Her vision became blurry as tears swelled up in her eyes. Then suddenly, all three witnesses on the ground jumped from the piercing fire that echoed in the auditorium which was followed by a scream from Christine. The three watched fearfully at the two men stood frozen stiff on top of the scenery.


	33. Chapter 33 :The Report

**Chapter 33: The Report**

Christine, Gerard, and Luv 'Monte watched as the two men on the platform had frozen from the shot. The revolver had fired it's last bullet into the floor and was no longer a useful weapon.

Erik yanked back possession of the revolver as he stepped away from Phillipe. "Your plans have failed, Monsieur, give it up." Erik threw the revolver onto the stage several feet below.

"I'll think of a new plan. You and Christine will never be rid of me!"

"Oh, so you admit to having thought up some way to get at me and that way was sabotaging the Opera."

"And you think yourself so smart." Phillipe laughed, "You had no idea that I was behind all those pranks--"

"And the killing of the stage hand?"

"A rather nice touch, wouldn't you say."

Monsieur Luv 'Monte was taken back. He could not believe that Phillipe was behind all the mishaps and murder.

"Was it really necessary to kill an innocent man?"

"Anything is necessary to expose you and get you out of the way, so I can have Christine." Phillipe shook his head and laughed, "You know, all the stories, all the legends, all the thoughts people had made of you made you appear to be this incredibly intelligent being. Someone or something that was so smart and omnipresent. People said the Opera Ghost knew everything that was happening in the Opera House. The Ghost knew where everyone was and what they were doing. But now, it seems you are not this incredible intelligent being, because I out smarted you! I had arranged and formed a plan that out smarted you! Admit it! You had no idea it was me! You did not know what was going on!" Phillipe laughed at Erik's silence.

Monsieur Luv 'Monte shook his head, he had such respect for the Count. The Count had become the Phantom.

"I am better than you! I even pulled the same trick you pulled when you kidnapped Christine three years ago! Yes, my plans had failed, but I am sure about one plan that I still have up my sleeve--" and like a flash Phillipe pulled a knife out of his boot and lunged for Erik.

Erik ducked and flipped Phillipe over his back. Phillipe fell off the platform onto the stage floor, several feet below, and landed on his stomach. Erik stood still for a moment then walked down the stairs of the platform. He nudged Phillipe's foot with his shoe. There was no reaction from Phillipe. Erik bent down and slowly started to turn Phillipe over, but winced when he saw the knife impaled in Phillipe's chest. Erik laid Phillipe carefully back on his stomach and stood up. He then realized the audience he had had. He stepped away from the Count's body and kept a considerable distance between him and Luv 'Monte. "He's dead." Erik broke the silence. "He landed on his knife and broke his neck in the fall."

Christine shuttered in horror.

"Erik, we must get out of here, the opera is crawling with police." Gerard said.

Erik did not respond, he just turned and looked at the opera manager.

Luv 'Monte stared at the masked man. He never would have believed the sight. He had to agree with Phillipe on one point; the masked man did seem smaller than he had imagined. "I will have to report to the police."

After a moment, Erik nodded, "I understand."

Christine was shaking, "Please, please, don't turn him over to the police. He is guilty of nothing."

Luv 'Monte exchanged glances between the three before him. He then turned to Erik, "You were not sabotaging the Opera House." He stated.

Erik shook his head.

"My report to the police; the Count de Chandon had been sabotaging the Opera House and was part of plan in committing murder. I witnessed his last attempt to sabotage the Opera house which was cutting the reinforcing ropes of the platform that would break under pressure. I had walked in on him doing this and startled him which ended in him slipping and falling on the weapon. He resurrected the Phantom of the Opera and indeed the Opera Ghost is dead."

Erik bowed his head in a 'thank you'.

"Now, get out of my Opera House, you have all caused enough trouble here."

Erik held a hand out for Christine to take and she took it and followed him as he led the way of escape.

Gerard lingered for a moment, "Thank you, Monsieur."

Luv 'Monte nodded then said, "I do not ever want to see you or your son again in my Opera House."

Gerard was struck by the fact that the opera manager was able to figure that information out. "As you wish," was all he could say.

"Gerard," Erik called from the shadows.

Gerard followed after Erik and Christine and disappeared into the shadows.

Luv 'Monte stood in the empty auditorium. He still could not believe what he had just witnessed. It was not long before the clatter of heavy footsteps charged onto the stage and the police all approached the scene.

"I demand to know what happened here?" The captain ordered as he saw the dead man on the floor.

"Gentlemen," Monsieur Luv 'Monte started, "I will be most cooperative in giving my report."

Erik, Christine, and Gerard made it out into the alley behind the Opera House from the secret entrance.

"Can we slow down, please, just for a moment," Christine fought to catch her breath.

"Only for a moment." Erik answered. "Gerard, where do we go?"

"To the stables. We can hitch up a carriage and drive to my home. From there, I do not know what to do."

Erik looked at Christine, she was shaking violently again and her breathing was becoming unstable. "Christine?" He caught her just as she fell unconscious.

"We must get her to a doctor."


	34. Chapter 34: The End

_**Author Notes: I have no excuse for my delay except forgetfulness and the trouble with how to end this story properly in respect for these characters growth and development. I wanted to give 'such an ending' but yet also a simple one. Well, needless to say, this is what I came up with. Be in mind that this ending might not be how some expected it to end but (not spoiling) it is a happy one.**_

_**I have tried to make it as NON SAPPY as possible. I don't like sappy endings for every story and this one does not call for it.**_

__

**I hope you enjoy this last installment and thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Chapter 34: Sometimes the Ending is Just the Beginning**

The news of Phillipe's death was printed in all the newspapers all over Paris, all over France. The headline article read:

* * *

COUNT PHILLIPE deCHANDON FOUND DEAD

From sufficient evidence, Count Phillipe deChandon

had been mugged. He fought bravely, killing one of

the thieves during the struggle. Unfortunately he met his untimely

end. Paris will never forget their beloved patron and friend.

* * *

Gerard and Jean-Claude had taken the bodies of Phillipe and the man that the count had hired into a well known alley and set the crime scene. Gerard and Jean-Claude had then reported the incident anonymously. They found the article suiting for the Count; he would forever be remembered as a fighter and a hero, which is what they wanted how they wanted it.

Monsieur Luv 'Monte kept his word and helped them escape, leading the police into another direction. Gerard and Jean-Claude believed that the opera manager would faithfully keep the secret and were quite relieved.

For the next few weeks, the Opera House would shut down to pay tribute to the Count.

The second morning after the Count was found, a funeral was held for Count Phillipe de Chandon in which Gerard, Jean-Claude, and Christine attended. Many Aristocrats, Barons, Baronesses, Lords, and Ladies attended the funeral of their dear friend as well as the actors, actresses and ballet rats. They all paid their last respects to their patron.

After the funeral, when the three had arrived at Gerard's home, they all collapsed in Gerard's living from exhaustion. Erik came down stairs and stopped when he saw them slumped in their chairs.

"Is everything all right?"

"Just weary," Gerard sighed. "It has been a long day."

"It was a memorable funeral. Everyone was there." Jean-Claude said then groaned to a standing position. "Well, I must be getting home."

Gerard stood and walked his friend to the door, "Thank you, my friend."

Christine also stood and walked into Erik's embrace for comfort.

"You will see me soon," Jean-Claude smiled and Gerard shut the door behind him.

"Well, I am exhausted. I think I will go to bed for a little. Wake me when supper time approaches." Gerard climbed the stairs and left the two of them alone.

They stood silent for some time. As they stood, the room began to feel faded and old. All the life that once use to be in the house seemed to be dying with each minute. Christine breathed in the stuffy air and quickly heaved it out.

She stepped back, "This has been such an adventure. One I am not sure I would have wanted to fall upon me." She then looked up and smiled, "But, if it did not happen, I would not have you."

Erik smiled proudly.

Christine noticed his silence, "You have been awfully quiet? Is there something troubling you? I suppose this whole episode has taken a toll on us all." Christine took his hands and wrapped them behind her. She tilted her head back and smiled up at his masked face. "I am sure we will all feel better soon, we must give it time."

Erik just stared at her with a pleasant expression on his face.

Christine's eyebrows frowned as she cocked her head, "What _is _the matter?"

"Nothing."

"There is something wrong, you have barely spoken. Do you not feel well?"

"I feel fine." He just looked down at her.

Christine shook her head in confusion, "What is it?"

Erik sighed and pulled her to him for a quick embrace then stepped back, "Christine, I'm just amazed at you."

"Amazed at me?"

"You have changed. When I first met you, you were a naïve youth and very inexperienced. If you were I, you would see how much you have grown over these past few years. You are a woman; intelligent and experienced. You are brave and have succeeded through the perils of life and death. You have changed quite a bit, indeed."

Christine smiled, "Thank you, Erik. I could say the same to you. You have also changed. You are mellow, wise, and more mature when it comes to love and loving." She paused for a moment, "And now, all we need if for you to accept yourself as much as I accept you."

They were silent for quite some time.

Erik toyed with his mother's ring in his pocket. "I do accept myself."

"You do?"

"Yes," his answer did not seem too convincing.

Christine almost tested him with a sly grin, "You really do?"

Erik nodded.

Christine raised an eyebrow then made her way to the kitchen for some tea. Erik followed her. She filled the kettle and set it to warm.

"Christine?"

She turned to him, "Yes?"

"There's something I have to ask."

"What is it?"

Erik twisted the ring between his fingers in his pocket. With a slightly trembling hand, he pulled the ring out of his pocket. "Christine, I wanted to ask if --" the words stuck in his throat. Was this how every man felt when they asked this question, or was it just him? It had to be every man.

She waited patiently. She saw the ring in his hand and smiled.

Her smile gave him courage to continue, "I wanted to ask if you would do me the honor of spending the rest of your life with someone like me?" He walked towards her presenting the ring.

Christine stared a moment at the ring in his hand. She then looked up at him with searching eyes. Her silence tormented him.

She then reached up and took hold of the bottom of his mask. With one fail swoop, she slipped it off his head and tossed it onto the table. She then took the ring ever gently. "Erik, I would love to spend the rest of my life with you, not with a man in a mask."

Erik smiled and put the ring on her finger. Then he froze. He did not know what to do. He never saw a proposal done before and never dreamed to be accepted.

Christine, though, seemed to have read his thoughts. She saved him by taking a step closer to him and wrapping his arms around her waist. She then embraced his cheeks in her hands and pressed her lips lightly to his.

Christine broke away with a grin. Then her smile faded when she was distracted by the room. The room seemed to have the same faded, dying look as the living room. "This house."

"What about it?"

"There is no life left in this house. There is just faded color, stuffy air and cluttered rooms."

"I'm sure we can clean it and redecorate." Erik did not seem to understand.

Christine shook her head, "No, that wouldn't save it. We need a new house." She looked at him, "In a new town."

Erik looked at her questionably, "Leave Paris?"

"Why not? I think it's time to venture to another town or country." She stopped and thought about a place they could go, "You know I see us living in a place like America. We could start a new life there."

"We have had some good memories here, though. I first heard you sing."

"Ah, true. We have had fond memories here. But I'm afraid if we don't leave, we'll end up just living old memories. I want to live new ones." Christine then thought, "You write beautiful music in America. I am sure they have opera. I have heard of a play called New York."

"And you could sing again."

Christine's eyes became dreamy as a smile touched her lips, "We would be free," she looked into Erik's eyes, "you _will_ be free. I hear the people in the North are not as superstitious as we are here. You will be free. America is a new country for us, with new people, who have different ways of thinking and looking. They will love you as I do."

"But what if they don't?"

"We have to pray. We have hope and have good faith. If we have this, I believe we will no trouble."

There was a pause, as he took it in, "That would be nice, not to hide."

Suddenly Gerard came into the kitchen, "I will start dinner," he stopped at the sight of their embrace before him. "Am I interrupting anything?"

Christine smiled, "It looks like I will be your daughter-in-law."

Gerard's face widen with excitement, "You are to be married?! That is wonderful! We will have to make wedding plans and living arrangements, we cannot all live here in this place, it's too faded and --"

Erik grinned, "Have you ever considered moving to America, Gerard?"

_The End_

_Fin_


End file.
